Starting Over . . . Again: Duchess' Story
by DuchessConlon
Summary: First in the Song and Dance Series. COMPLETE! Duchess is on the run and heads for NYC. She was the leader of her newsies in Richmond, VA. Sparks fly when she joins Brooklyn and has to start taking orders from Spot Conlon . . .
1. A Painful Past

Disclaimer: actually I don't really need a disclaimer of Chapter One, cause all the characters are mine, but I'll let this be the disclaimer for the whole thing. Spot Conlon and all the other newsies belong to Disney. I'm not making any money off this, and I have about ten bucks to my name, so don't sue me, Disney people! Duchess, Flash, John, Blackjack, and all the Brooklyn Newsies except for Spot, are my original characters.  
  
Author's Note: This is my first ff so please read and review. I know chapter one is kinda depressing, but it's really just introduction. It gets better. I promise. Also, this is the only ff I've actually written, but I have three whole series planned out for the future. So if you like this one, I'll be writing more (  
  
Love, Duchess  
  
  
  
February 1899  
  
Anastasia Laine, commonly known as Duchess, leaned against the wall of a dirty boxcar on a northbound train. Her seat on the hardwood floor was hardly comfortable, but she was too tired and emotionally drained to think much about it. At least the clattering of the freight car as it rolled along the tracks reminded her that she was alive, something her exhausted system was having trouble recalling at the moment. She sighed and raked her hands through her tangled hair. She had spent the first several hours of the trip deliberately thinking of nothing, but she couldn't keep that up. So finally she let her mind drift back to yesterday, to recall, in all their lurid detail, the events that had suddenly and irrevocable changed her life.  
  
A mere day ago, Duchess had been the happy and confident leader of the Downtown newsies in Richmond, Virginia. She had taken control of Downtown two years before, at the tender age of thirteen. The previous leader had been nineteen at the time, and ready to give up being a newsie, so he held a competition to see who would be the next leader. The contenders were four large, muscular boys ranging from fifteen to eighteen years old, and Duchess. The assembled crowd of newsies had laughed at her when she lined up next to those big boys, but the laughter stopped a few minutes later when she knocked her first opponent out cold in ten seconds flat. She had proceeded to do the same for the other three, and no one who was there that day had ever questioned her right to lead. Quite a few of them, however, asked where she'd learned to fight like that. None of them had ever seen martial arts before, which was her secret weapon, and the reason she could beat boys so much bigger and stronger than her.  
  
She had learned the eastern fighting style in Japan, where she had lived with her missionary parents until she was ten years old. She had one brother, John, who was two years younger than her. Then their parents had decided that it was time for their children to see the land of the free. They had told them stories about America, but for Anastasia and John, who had lived their whole life among the Japanese, they seemed a bit hard to believe. At this same time, Anastasia's best friend, Su Mai Ling's parents decided that they would have better opportunities in America and decided to immigrate. Anastasia had been overjoyed, since she couldn't imagine being separated from Su, who was more like a sister than a friend. Both girls were proficient in all types of martial arts, as were most Japanese children. They had, in fact, met in training when they were four years old, and had been inseparable ever since.  
  
So it was that the girls and their families set out with high hopes on their way to America. Tragically, the ship's occupants were struck with a fever mid-voyage. In such confined surroundings it quickly spread to most of the passengers and crew. Anastasia, Su, and John, recovered quickly, but all their parents, along with about a third of everyone on board, died of it. So the three children, virtually penniless upon their arrival in San Francisco, had become a family of their own. On the streets of the coastal city they all gained street smarts in a hurry. After a year in San Francisco, they decided to head east, towards denser civilization. Their original goal was New York, but they had all liked the relatively small, southern capital, Richmond, Virginia so much, they decided to stay. They settled into a life on the streets, which were much kinder than the ones they had known before, and Anastasia and Su became newsies. Anastasia somehow got the nickname Duchess. She wasn't really sure why. Su came to be called Flash because she could move so fast. Duchess was better at "improving the truth," so she called the headlines most of the time. Flash did acrobatic tricks to draw a crowd. They made a great selling team. Duchess insisted that John finish elementary school since he was two years behind the girls. They all lived in the downtown lodging house, which was owned by the kindly Mrs. Hilliard.  
  
The girls had been newsies for two years when Duchess became the leader of Downtown. A few months after that, John finished fifth grade and Duchess agreed to let him become a newsie as well. Things were fairly smooth after that, for about two years, except for one little problem by the name of Blackjack Dodge.  
  
Blackjack was the leader of the Southside newsies, and had been one of her opponents in the competition for Downtown. He had hoped to increase his territory to include the majority of the city, north of the James River and he had never forgiven Duchess for beating him. Consequently she and all her newsies had to be on their guard for him and his bullyboys.  
  
One morning in early February, John was caught alone in a back alley by Blackjack and a few of his gang. Seeing his chance to get revenge on Duchess, Blackjack had cruelly and methodically beat her thirteen-year-old brother to death.  
  
Duchess had found him as the Southside boys were running away. She was too concerned about her brother to give chase and ran to his side. He was barely alive by that time, but he reached weakly up to her. "I love you, big sister," he whispered feebly. "I love you too, Johnny," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You're going to be just fine. We'll get you a doctor, and everything will be all right." At his point, she lapsed into Japanese, which was equally natural for her, just saying the same things over and over as she sobbed harder. John was struggling more and more just to draw breath. He summoned the last of his strength to place a hand on his hysterical sister's arm. She immediately fell silent and looked down at him. "Don't cry for me, Ana," he said, struggling to form each word. She smiled through her tears at his use of her secret nickname. No one else called her Ana, not even Su. "Why would I cry for you? You're going to be just fine," she said, not believing it any more than John did. "Goodbye, Ana. I'll tell Mom and Dad hi for you." She nodded, holding back her tears for his sake. A moment later his head dropped back, and she knew his pain was over. She gathered his lifeless form in her arms and released the gut-wrenching sobs she had been restraining.  
  
Underneath her grief, she identified a new emotion building within her. It took her a moment to identify it. It was anger, or more precisely, fury. She would kill Blackjack for what he'd done to Johnny. She had no doubt she could do it. But before she could follow that train of thought any farther, she heard whistles and clanging bells. The police had arrived on the scene, and she was the only one there with her dead brother. They had been tipped off by none other than Blackjack, who claimed he'd seen Duchess kill Johnny.  
  
When they tried to grab her, her self-preservation instincts kicked in and she broke away and ran for all she was worth. The tears were still streaming down her face as she ran through alleys and side streets, working her way to the lodging house. She had to leave. That was all she knew. If she stayed, she be put in prison for sure, and that was something that could not happen. When she finally reached the lodging house, Flash, and most of her other newsies were there. Duchess opened her mouth to explain, but Flash held up a hand to stop her. "We heard," she said gently, tears beginning to run down her face as well, "You have to leave. I already packed your things." She handed Duchess a carpetbag that contained all her worldly possessions. Duchess looked into her best friend's eyes. Suddenly she was being hugged tightly, and she shuddered out her grief in the arms of her dearest friend, who was now the closest to family that she had. When her sobs subsided, Flash released her. "Head for New York. Write me when you can, and I'll come find you. I'll see that Johnny gets a proper burial." Duchess nodded. She wished she didn't have to leave before her brother was properly buried, but she had no choice. "I'll write you," she looked into Su's eyes, "sister." Su smiled brilliantly through her tears. "I'll wait for word, sister," she whispered the last word. "You're the leader now, Flash. Be good to them." Then, without another word, Duchess turned and made her way to the train station, where she hopped a north bound freight train.  
  
Duchess raised her head from her hands. These reflections had been painful, but she felt somewhat better for it. She just couldn't believe that she would never see her only brother again. It seemed too horrible to be true, and yet there was no denying it. She had thought she had no tears left, but she had been wrong. As the train rattled ever northward, Duchess stretched out of a pile of burlap sacks and cried herself to sleep. 


	2. New York At Last!

AN: I don't have a very good idea how New York is laid out today, let alone a hundred years ago, except that Manhattan and Brooklyn are connected by the Brooklyn Bridge, so I'm just making up the relative locations to suit the story, pretty much. Also, I decided not to write the New Yawk accent. I certainly intend for the newsies to have accents, but I don't trust myself to do it well, so everybody use your imaginations! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I love reviews, so let me know what you think!  
  
Duchess was awakened early the next morning when the train lurched to a less than smooth halt. She groaned and let her head fall back onto the burlap sacks she had been sleeping on. If it was possible, she felt more tired this morning than she had last night, and she ached all over. She would have given anything to be able to just lie there and go back to sleep, but she knew there would be hell to pay if she was caught in the boxcar. So, she pulled herself to a standing position and crept over to the door of the freight car. She placed her ear against the wood and listened carefully to determine if anyone was outside. Hearing nothing, she slid the door open as quietly as possible and slipped out into the train yard.  
  
Duchess had no idea what city she was in, much less what part of it, so she headed out of the train yards and picked a direction. One thing was clear immediately. She was in a very large city. New York? She wondered excitedly. At the moment, however, she was in a rough looking part of wherever she was. The buildings were dingy and run-down, and most of the people on the streets looked either vaguely threatening or completely destitute and hopeless. She started walking up the street quickly, but nothing in her body language gave away that she anything but completely at ease. The first, and most fundamental lesson of martial arts was not to look like a target. After six years of training and five years of practical application, the upright, confident looking stance was second nature to her.  
  
Duchess might have looked confident, but inside she was growing vaguely panicky. She didn't even know where she was. She could find this out, of course, by asking someone, but none of the people she was passing on the street looked even remotely friendly. As she came to a corner, she heard a familiar sound. "Extra! Extra! Mass murder in Harlem!" Duchess sighed with relief. A newsie. And she was, in fact, in New York. She looked around for the source of the voice and spotted a blonde haired boy, who looked about twelve. She pulled a penny out of her pocket and made her way over to him. "Buy a pape?" she said, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around, smiling, and Duchess was immediately struck by his bright blue eyes. "Sure thing miss," the boy said, handing her a paper. She handed over the penny, and he was about to turn away, when she caught his arm. He looked at her questioningly, and she smiled sheepishly. "Um, I'm a bit lost," she admitted, "and I was wondering if you could tell me where I am, exactly?" He smiled kindly. "Sure thing, miss. You're in the Bronx, but I don't know as you actually want to be here. It's kind of a rough neighborhood." Duchess laughed. "Yeah, I kind of figured," she said, glancing around, once more at their surroundings. "Where would you suggest I go instead?"  
  
"Well, Manhattan or Brooklyn probably," he replied, then added proudly, "I'm from Brooklyn."  
  
"Oh really?" she said, "What's your name?"  
  
"They call me Bluejay," he said. Looking once again at his striking eyes, Duchess remarked, "I can see why. I'm Duchess," she said, spitting into her palm and offering it to him. He grinned and returned the compliment. "So, Bluejay, if you're from Brooklyn, why are you selling in the Bronx?" He looked at her in surprise. "How did you know about newsie territory?" he asked. "Well, I guess a newsie's life is just about the same wherever you are," she said with a wry grin. Bluejay looked even more astonished. "You're a newsie?" he said, his eyes growing wide. "Sure," she responded, "best in Richmond. He gave her a shrewd look. "Prove it."  
  
"Okay, give me your papes." He handed them over. There were about twenty left. Piece of cake, she thought. She opened up the one she had bought from him and scanned the pages for a promising headline. She quickly found an article about an exterminator rooting out a den of rats. Perfect. "Extra! Extra! Brutal Murder of Harlem Family! Authorities Turn Blind Eye!" That got rid of about half of the stack. When no one else seemed interested in the headline, she switched to plan B. Scanning passersby for a likely victim, she spotted an elderly lady. "Hold these," she said to Bluejay, shoving all but one of the papes into his arms. She took the last one and walked over to the old lady. "Buy my last paper, ma'am?" Duchess said in a pitiful sounding voice. As soon as the lady looked at her, her entire demeanor changed. Gone was the cocky smirk and upright bearing. She suddenly looked entirely helpless and desperate. "If I don't sell all my papers, I won't have enough money to pay for my poor sick mother's medicine." At this point, she allowed her lower lip to tremble slightly. "Oh, you poor thing!" the lady exclaimed, "Of course I'll buy your paper. Here, take a nickel. You need it worse than I do." She tearfully thanked the woman as she walked away. As Duchess turned back to Bluejay, who had been observing from a distance, all traces of the pitiful young girl vanished. She grinned triumphantly. "Well?" she demanded, still grinning, "Do you believe me now?" Bluejay nodded emphatically. "You're really good. I bet Spot, our leader, would let you join Brooklyn if you wanted." Duchess didn't have to think about her answer. "Yes!" she almost shouted. She cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. "Um, I mean, that would be fine," she corrected. Bluejay grinned at her enthusiasm. "Well follow me and I'll take you to meet Spot."  
  
"Okay. Hey, you never told me what a Brooklyn newsie like you is doing selling in the Bronx."  
  
"Oh, that," he said nonchalantly, "Well, Spot likes to know what's going on all over the city. So he sends us birds out to the different territories to keep an eye on things." Wish I'd thought of that, Duchess thought to herself. Out loud, she said, "Don't the other leaders object to Brooklyn newsies selling on their turf?" Bluejay shrugged. "I guess so, but they don't say anything, cause they don't want to mess with Spot." Duchess felt suddenly uneasy. This Spot must be a pretty tough leader to have all the rest of the leaders scared of him. She just hoped he wasn't anything like Blackjack. She banished the thought as soon as it popped into her head. Bluejay didn't seem anything like Blackjack's boys, who followed him either because they were bullies or because they were too intimidated to do otherwise. Duchess heard the pride in Bluejay's voice when he talked about his leader. This Spot would surely be someone she could respect and follow. She had been a good leader, but she was finished with that now. Her being a leader was what had gotten Johnny killed. She wanted no part of it anymore. Reassured, she followed Bluejay to Brooklyn. 


	3. Meeting Spot . . .

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. I would really love for more people to review. It's much easier to write if I get feedback!  
  
Bluejay was trying to observe the girl walking beside him without her noticing. Through surreptitious sideways glances he was able to gather quite a bit of information. She was an inch or so taller than his 5'1", but she seemed taller because she walked with an upright and confident air that said, "Don't mess with me." Her golden blonde hair was pulled back into a single braid that fell to about four inches past her shoulders. She was wearing quite an odd assortment of clothes, and yet they looked just right on her. On her head was a brown newsie cap. Below that she wore an off the shoulder white peasant blouse with red suspenders over it. These were attached to a blue patchwork peasant skirt that fell to just above the tops of her black ankle boots. All she carried with her was a small carpetbag. Just then, she turned toward him, her blue-gray eyes narrowed. "What are you staring at?" she demanded. "Nothing," he replied. "That's what I thought," she said, her mouth twisting into a cocky smirk that reminded Bluejay forcefully of his leader, Spot Conlon. As he turned to look where he was going, he hoped she wouldn't get into trouble with Spot right off. That turned out to be a vain hope.  
  
The rest of the long walk to Brooklyn was uneventful, and mostly silent. When they arrived at the docks, Bluejay turned to her and told her to wait there. "Spot don't like surprises, so I have to tell him you're here, okay?" Duchess nodded affably. She saw him pause a little way down the dock to talk to three large boys who all looked about sixteen to eighteen. As he continued toward what she assumed was the lodging house on the other end of the dock, the three large newsies approached her. When they reached the spot where she was standing they stopped and stood in a row, looking intimidating. "Here to guard me?" she asked, her voice slightly sarcastic. They didn't say anything. She supposed she should have been intimidated, but instead she found herself holding back giggles. The smallest one of the three, who was about 5'11 and had light brown hair, glared at her. "What's so funny?" he demanded irritably. She gave in to her giggles. "You three. I mean look at you big burly boys standing guard over me like I'm public enemy number one!" She convulsed into laughter. The boy held his scowl for a moment more before he broke into a grin. "I guess you're right," he said, "So let me introduce myself. I'm Packrat, and this is Shiner and Chip." She smiled back at him, spit into her palm, and offered it to him. "I'm Duchess." He did the same and they shook. She did the same with the red haired boy Packrat had called Shiner. She could see where he got his name. His left eye was slightly bruised. The other boy, Chip, who had dark auburn hair and was the largest of the three continued to scowl at her, his arms crossed over his chest. She looked over at Packrat wondering how she should respond to Chip's continued hostility. He rolled his eyes and quickly reassured her. "Oh don't worry about Chip. He's always got a chip on his shoulder about something. That's how he got his name." He turned to Chip. "Why you scowling at a pretty girl, Chip?" Chip gave in and dropped his scowl, though he didn't quite smile either. He spit shook with her as well. Just then, Bluejay returned. "So, Duchess, I see you met the boys," he remarked, smiling. "Yeah, so am I cleared?"  
  
"Yep. Come with me." Duchess followed him down the dock. About midway down, Bluejay came to a halt in front of a stack of crates. Perched upon them, like a king on his throne, was a slim, but athletic looking boy with light brown hair and piercing eyes of a shade similar to her own blue- gray. He was wearing a dark gray newsie cap, a blue and white checked shirt, red suspenders, and brown wool trousers. A brass-topped walking stick was slipped through his left suspender like a sword, and a slingshot protruded from one pocket. When he hopped down she saw that he was shorter than most of the newsies standing around, but he had an air of command that made it easy for her to identify him as the leader. Her assumption was confirmed when Bluejay performed the introductions. "Duchess, this is Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn. Spot, this is Duchess." She thought he would spit shake with her like the other newsies, but instead he took her hand and kissed it. "Pleased to meet you, Duchess," he said, with a cocky smirk. Oh, so Mr. Bigshot thinks he's a ladies man, she thought. "Likewise, I'm sure," she replied coolly. He raised his eyebrows at her chilly tone, but the smirk remained on his face. "So, what's your story?" he asked, suddenly all business. "My story?" It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. "Isn't it enough that I can sell papes?" He was taken aback at her obvious irritation. "Hey, we've all got histories here," he said, indicating the assembled newsies behind him, "But if you're running from the Bulls or something we need to know it. And it would be nice to get to know you a bit too." She curtly nodded her comprehension. "All right. I was born in Japan. I lived there till I was ten. Then me, my parents, my brother, my best friend, and her family came to America. Her parents and mine died on the boat. When we got to San Francisco we lived there for a year, then we moved to Virginia. That's when we became newsies. Two years after that I became leader of the Downtown territory. That was two years ago. Now I'm here, and yes, I am wanted by the police in Richmond."  
  
Spot's head was reeling from her rapid-fire delivery of the story, but he didn't show it. "What are they after you for?" he asked casually. She narrowed her eyes. "What business is it of yours?" she demanded. Spot was suddenly irritated by her prickliness. "It's my business if you want to be a Brooklyn newsie," he snapped. Duchess bit her lip and looked from side to side, as if searching for some way to get out of it. Finally she said, "Well maybe you need to know, but they don't." She indicated the newsies who were watching the confrontation avidly. "Fair enough," he said, to their disappointment. She leaned in and whispered one word in his ear, "Murder." His eyes met hers, his shock plainly visible. Most of his newsies, himself included, were wanted by the Bulls, but mostly for petty offenses like stealing food. As he asked his next question, he watched her eyes carefully. "Did you do it?" There was no accusation in his voice, so she gave him a straight answer. "No." The pain in that whispered word was evident even to the less than empathetic Brooklyn leader. So he simply nodded his acceptance of her answer and left it at that. "So," he said, once again speaking so everyone could hear, "Bluejay here can vouch for your paper selling skills, but why should I believe a little gangly girl like you could be leader of an entire territory?" Her face took on an expression of deadly calm. Had any of the Richmond newsies been present, they would have advised Spot to run hard and fast. As it was, his high and mightiness was blissfully unaware of the anger simmering just beneath Duchess' cool faÃ§ade. "Because I'm telling you, Spot," she replied almost pleasantly, giving him one chance to redeem himself. He wasted it. "That ain't good enough, Duchess. You have to show me." (AN: shameless use of a line from the movie, but it works, don't you think?)  
  
Without a word, or even a change of expression, Duchess pivoted sharply and landed a powerful kick directly on Spot's jaw. For a moment he simply stared at her, slack-jawed. Then his eyes narrowed. "Why I oughtta- -" he growled, advancing on her, fists raised. Bluejay moved to stop him, but his help turned out to be unnecessary. As soon as he was close enough Duchess stepped in, and much to his surprise he found himself flying over her hip to land sprawled on the dock behind her.  
  
Duchess waited a moment to make sure he wasn't going to try again, then went over to him and held out her hand to help him up. He ignored her, and got up without assistance. Once he had dusted himself off, he glared at her, and then at all the newsies. It occurred to Duchess that it had probably not been a good idea to publicly humiliate her new leader, but he had made her so angry! Well it was too late now, so she stared back at him and waited for his reaction. "You can stay tonight," he snapped, "But tomorrow you gotta meet my requirements to permanently join our little group."  
  
"What requirements?"  
  
"You sell a hundred papes in one hour." 


	4. Introducing . . . Brooklyn!

Spot stood on the dock watching Duchess walk away toward the lodging house with Bluejay. Every muscle in his body was clenched in anger, and the newsies were starting to give him nervous looks. He realized this and forced himself to relax. Taking a deep breath he forced his usual smirk to his face. "Hey, what're you gawping at?" he asked in a show of good nature, "We got papes to sell!" The newsies readily accepted his return to normal, not realizing that inside he was still furious. Since he had become leader of Brooklyn a year ago, very few people had tried to soak him. None of them had been girls, and none of them had succeeded. He felt it was tremendously generous of him to give the little upstart any chance to stay at all.  
  
Duchess, as she entered the lodging house, was thinking much the same thing. She knew she had made a serious tactical error by humbling her new leader on their first meeting, but he had called her leadership abilities into question. That was something no one ever did twice. She supposed she should break the habits she had developed to remain a leader for so long, but it wasn't exactly an overnight process, and just the day before she had been a respected leader. She considered Spot's challenge. It was difficult to be sure. Next to impossible, but not actually impossible. She'd have to do some careful pre-planning tonight, but she felt sure she could rise to the occasion. She was pulled from her thoughts, as Bluejay led her into the lodging house. "Duchess, I want you to meet everybody," he said, indicating the group of newsies that had not followed Spot. There were five girls in the room and six boys. Obviously most of the newsies were out selling papers at this time of day, but these few had apparently remained to meet the newest addition. The actual ratio of girls to boys was not represented either, as the guys felt more strongly about supporting Spot in his wounded pride than the girls did. Pointing to the guys, Bluejay began to introduce them. The boy with wet brown hair was Splash, who swam like a fish, apparently. The black boy who greeted her with a comfortingly familiar southern accent was Blues. Two boys with light brown hair and muddy hazel eyes were called Brains and Brawn. They would have been identical except that Brawn was slim and intelligent looking, while Brains was buff and vacant looking. Duchess rather thought they had gotten the names mixed up, but didn't remark on it. A tall boy, who didn't smile when he greeted her, and continued to not smile throughout the whole of the introductions, was Funny. A tall blonde haired boy was identified as Bell, "because he talked on a telephone once." A smaller black haired boy of about fifteen, with clear green eyes, was called Secrets. "We don't know nothing about him, but he knows everybody else's secrets," Bluejay confided. The last boy, who barely lifted his nose from a book of poetry to greet her, was Shakespeare. By way of greeting he said to her, "Good morrow fair Duchess. Our meeting is truly fortuitous." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Right . . . " Bluejay laughed, "Don't pay any attention to Shakespeare. Nobody but Books can make any sense outta half of what he says, but he's one heck of a newsie." The last guy was called Bell, "cause he talked on a telephone once," explained Bluejay. "Well, we gotta sell our papes," he said, "I'll leave the girls to introduce themselves." With that, he and the eight other guys trooped out of the room, hardly a word having been exchanged between them and the newest addition. Talkative bunch, Duchess mused sarcastically. Then she turned to face the five girls who'd been observing the introductions. She was much more worried about the reception the girls would give her. Guys tended to be pretty laid back and go with the flow, whereas girls formed very definite initial opinions. The oldest of the group, a girl with straight mousy brown hair, and striking eyes who looked about fifteen, approached her. "I'm Books," she said, extending her hand. Duchess shook with her. "I'm Duchess," she replied, smiling uncertainly. "Well, you certainly have an interesting way of greeting your new leader," Books said. Duchess blushed. "I didn't really mean for that to happen. I've got a bit of a temper, and nobody questions my leadership abilities." A girl with strawberry blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a half eaten licorice stick, giggled. "You sound just like Spot. I'm Candy by the way." Duchess shook with her as well. The other three girls took this as their cue to introduce themselves. The thirteen- year-old girl who looked eleven was Matches. She had curly chestnut hair and warm brown eyes. Her comment to Duchess was, "You're not thinking of challenging Spot for leadership are you?" Duchess shook her head emphatically. "No, I'm done with that." The girl with wavy light brown hair and grey eyes was called Pockets, "because I make a little extra profit from the customers pockets!" The last girl was a cute blonde of about fifteen, with slightly violet blue eyes. "I'm Emma," she said. "Don't you have a nickname?" Duchess inquired in a friendly tone. "That is my nickname." Emma explained that Books had named her after a character in a novel by Jane Austen. Duchess eyes lit up. "Oh, my mother used to read me Pride and Prejudice!" she exclaimed, remembering how her mother had wanted to expose her to western culture. Emma smiled. Most people's remark upon receiving that information was "Jane, who?"  
  
"So, Duchess, it's too bad you won't be able to stay after tomorrow," said Matches. Duchess turned to her in surprise. "And why wouldn't I be able to stay?" she asked. "Well, nobody can sell a hundred papes in an hour."  
  
"I can."  
  
"So," Candy broke in brightly, "How about a game of poker? Do you play Duchess?" Duchess nodded her head enthusiastically, and the girls broke out the cards and started to play.  
  
Hours later, when the guys returned, the game was still going on, and going very much in Duchess' favor. As Spot walked in the door, Duchess finished cleaning everybody out, and scraped the big pile of coins into her bag. "Hey, Spot!" Books said, "You should see Duchess play poker! The girls got skills." Spot gave a disgruntled snort. "The only skills of hers I care about are her pape selling skills, unless she wants to show me something more useful in my room," he said, smirking as he offered the suggestion. Duchess coolly looked him up and down. "In your dreams Casanova," she said, matching his smirk. Spot huffed up the stairs to his private room, clearly annoyed. This time Duchess didn't feel any guilt over annoying the cocky Brooklyn leader. It was his own fault for suggesting such a thing. "Well girls, it's been a pleasure relieving you of your money, but I have a challenge ahead of me tomorrow, and I need my rest," she remarked, getting up from the table. Books, and the others got up too, showing Duchess the way to the girls bunkroom. Once there, they let their anger at Spot show. He was a lady's man to be sure, but he usually wasn't vulgar, and didn't objectify girls. "I can't believe I'm related to that creep!" Books exclaimed. Duchess did a double take. "You're related to Spot?" Books looked surprised. "Sure, we're twins, didn't I mention it?" Duchess burst out laughing, and shook her head. Books looked chagrined. "Oops. Well anyway, it's not like I'm proud of it when he acts like that. You show him tomorrow, Duchess"  
  
"Don't worry, I will"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
AN: Well, my author's notes at the beginnings of chapters have been singularly unsuccessful at getting reviews, so I decided to try the end. I feel I should say something at this point in the story, even though you've probably already noticed. Duchess is a Mary Sue. I admit this freely, but I also think she's a well developed character with a story. I just felt I should say, that's what she is. If you didn't notice that, you might want to have your powers of observations checked ;) Thanks to everybody for your reviews. Thanks especially to Half-Pint and Lyric to helping to inspire me :) Thanks also, to Killersabinx for taking the time to write a *long* review :) Umm . . . I may revise this chapter later, but It's been forever since I posted, and I really needed to just post it. Now, go push the little purple button. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!! PUSH THE BUTTON! I'M NOT ENTIRELY STABLE, SO IF YOU DON"T DO WHAT I SAY WHO KNOWS WHAT I MIGHT DO!!!!! 


	5. The Challenge

AN: Okay, I am SO sorry I have taken this long to post this chapter. Actually I finished it awhile ago, but I was waiting on my dear editor Lyric to send me the corrections. Don't be mad at her though, cause she's been really busy. I would like to point out as a side note to my earlier announcement that she's a Mary Sue, that Duchess actually has very little in common with me. She does look like me, except shorter and skinnier. Actually I based her on what I looked like when I was fifteen, since that's how old she is in the story (I'm eighteen, btw). As far as everything else, I've never been to Japan, and I don't speak Japanese, though I'm planning on taking it next year. The only martial arts I've ever had was Aikido, which is more about deflecting an attack than actually attacking anyone. Most of the stuff Duchess does comes from what I've seen in Jackie Chan movies, lol.  
  
Okay, now much deserved thank you's:  
  
Singah and KaRmAsTaR: A Mary Sue is a character that the author bases on herself (only usually much improved) and it's sort of a wish fulfillment. If a character has the same newsie name or name or something as the author, it is automatically a Mary Sue, which is why I classify Duchess as one. I can't speak for everyone, but I feel a very strong connection with my dear Mary Sue. The problem is Mary Sue stories are often appallingly badly written and underdeveloped or extremely unrealistic. I hope I've avoided that nasty snag ;)  
  
Esmen: Isn't Jane Austen the best?  
  
TaurusPrincess: Are you from Richmond? I am ;)  
  
popmonkeysangle: Thanks for the LONG and extremely enthusiastic review :) I like Mary Sues too, so long as they're well written.  
  
Half-Pint and Rae Kelly: Thank you for your wonderful support and help with ideas Y'all are so nice :)  
  
Lyric: As promised I didn't use your last name (It would give the story away! LOL) But thanks SOOO much for beta reading for me and for being my only real life (as opposed to internet) Newsies obsessed friend, and for being my BEST friend *hugs*  
  
dreamcoat, killersabinx, haley, Jo, and Pipes: Thanks for the reviews!  
  
When Duchess awoke the next morning, she was surprised to see that four bunks in the girl's room that had been empty last night, were now occupied. She asked Books, who was already awake and reading, who they were. "Oh, those are the birds. They usually get in late," she responded casually. "You mean like Bluejay?" Duchess asked. "Yeah, but the girls ain't allowed to cover hostile territory. Spot's orders." Turning toward the still sleeping birds, she yelled, "Girls! Get up and introduce yourselves!" There was tired sounding mumbling from the bunks as the girls were pulled from sound sleep. A few minutes later, they were coherent enough to recognize that there was a new girl in the bunkroom. The four of them ambled over to inspect Duchess as Books introduced them. "This is Starling for Manhattan, Raven for Midtown (don't even ask her real name, it's a trip), Canary for the Upper East Side, and Magpie, for the Bowery." The girls, all fourteen or under, greeted Duchess sleepily. "So what's her real name?" Duchess asked playfully. Books sighed. "Raven, tell Duchess here your whole name. Raven blushed. "Raquel Alejandra Verdad Estralita Noemi Quintero Hernandez," she she recited quickly. Duchess giggled at Raven's disgusted expression. "You were right Books, it's a trip." Books continued as the girls walked drowsily out of the room, "The other five daybirds are guys. You already met Bluejay for the Bronx. And don't let his age fool you. The kid is tough, or Spot would never let him cover the Bronx. I'll introduce you to Peacock for the Lower East Side, Pigeon for West Side, Parrot for Queens, and Eagle for Harlem, later. Eagle's also the coordinator of the whole bird network. That's why he covers our archenemy Harlem. The birds are extremely well organized, so Spot always knows what's going on." At this point, Books lowered her voice, "Now you didn't hear this from me, but there's another bird for each territory; one that lives in the lodging house for that territory. They only report once a month except in extreme emergencies. Even in friendly territories, they don't know that those birds are really Brooklyn spies. Spot even has live in birds in the other two Brooklyn Lodging Houses, to make sure nobody gets the bright idea to mutiny." Duchess' head was reeling from this information. Apparently Spot was an extremely suspicious leader. She saw this as an extremely good leadership quality. She was impressed at the breadth and scope of the spy network that had been described. Spot was probably never surprised. She remembered Bluejay's words the previous afternoon, "Spot don't like surprises." *Apparently* she thought dryly. She mentally filed this information about the Birds in the back of her mind, to think about at another time. Then she went into the washroom to get cleaned up and dressed for the day. Most of the newsies were just getting up, so she had time to do her daily devotions, which she had kept up on her own after her mother was no longer there to prod her. Duchess opened her Bible, which was in Japanese, to the passage where she had left off reading two days ago. Understandably she hadn't had time for her Bible reading in the boxcar yesterday morning.  
  
After she read her usual chapter, she put the Bible away and pulled out a notebook and pen. If she was going to meet Spot's challenge and be allowed to stay in Brooklyn, she knew she'd need to use every selling strategy she'd ever used or heard of. She started listing possibilities.  
  
When everyone else was finished getting ready, Duchess closed the notebook, feeling satisfied with her plan. Joining the rest of the newsies as they descended the stairs, she caught site of Spot talking to Chip at the head of their little group. Sensing her gaze he turned and gave her a cocky look that set her blood boiling. She glared back at him and thought, *You're going down, Mr. Big.*  
  
As they walked toward the Distribution Office, Matches and Emma drew her into conversation. They asked her what it had been like being a leader. She told them it had been tough, always having to defend her territory, but it had certain perks. When they reached the DO, she smiled and separated herself from her new friends, walking over to Spot who was at the front of the line. "Ladies first," he said with a smirk, gesturing towards the window. She gave him a mock curtsey. "You're too kind, your highness," she responded, fluttering her eyelashes sarcastically. His eyes narrowed, but she stepped in front of him and slapped a dollar on the counter. "Two hundred," she said coolly. "Two hundred?" Spot echoed, slightly shocked. She smiled sweetly at him. "Well I have to have something to do after the hours up." He merely raised an eyebrow at her and got his own two hundred. He normally only got a hundred and fifty, but he wasn't about to be shown up by a girl. Particularly *this* girl. "So," he said, a challenge in his voice, "Are you ready?" She looked him up and down in almost exactly the same way she had the night before when she refused his advances. She looked him straight in the eye, undaunted. "I was born ready." Spot met her eyes and saw something familiar there. Her reaction to his challenge was exactly what he would have done in her position. Shaking off the thought, he explained how it would work. "Okay, I'll keep time on my pocket watch. Packrat here will watch and make sure it's fair. Your time starts when we walk out the gates. You have exactly one hour to get rid of one hundred of those papes. Got it?" She nodded curtly. They walked toward the gate. When they reached it, Spot spoke again. "Okay, time starts . . ." Duchess crossed the line, "Now!"  
  
And she was off like a rocket. The first thing she did was a series of complicated acrobatics, which drew a crowd to her. Then she started calling partially and totally false headlines that people rushed over to check out. When interest waned in those she moved on to targets for her acting ability. Using various ploys on different, sympathetic people, she sold even more papes. Just as she was selling her thirtieth pape, Spot called, "Fifteen minutes!" Duchess was right on target. When the nice old ladies grew sparse, she moved on to the young men. Walking up to what looked to be a college boy, she though of her best friend, Lyric. Actually there had been the three of them, she, Flash and Lyric, that were best friends. But Duchess didn't have time to contemplate the whereabouts of the long-absent element of their threesome. Right now, she only needed to use her friend's flirting method of selling papes. Duchess fluttered her eyelashes at the young man. "Hi," she said in a sultry voice, very different from her usual sarcastic tone. "Hi," the man said, smiling at her. Duchess sighed inwardly. When Lyric did that, men were so dazzled they couldn't see straight. Lyric was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. She could have set Spot Conlon in a daze! Of course, Duchess was no hag, and she was certainly good looking enough to put one over on this clueless rich kid. Once again she scolded herself inwardly to pay attention to the task at hand. "Help a poor girl out? Buy a paper?" she continued, adding a slight sexy pout to her lower lip. It worked like a charm. He quickly fumbled for a coin and handed her a nickel. "Here," he said, smiling back at her. "Oh no." She bit her lip in false dismay. "I don't have any change." At this point she placed her hand lightly on his arm. He did a double take, staring into her eyes. "I could give you your money's worth though. Maybe you have friends that would like a newspaper?" She held out four more papers. He nodded readily and she passed him the additional papes. Score! Normally of course she would have pocketed the whole nickel for one pape, but today her goal was to get rid of papes as quickly as possible. He glanced back over his shoulder at her as he continued on his way, but she was already moving in on another group of people.  
  
And so it went, until she sold the last one using her sick mother story. "Done!" she exclaimed triumphantly, looking over at Spot. He looked at his watch, then back at her. Their eyes held for what seemed like an eternity until he grudgingly muttered, "Fifty-five minutes." At this, a cheer went up from the gathered newsies, who had forgone selling their own papes in favor of watching Duchess. Her new friends gathered around her to offer enthusiastic congratulations, but Spot hung back, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression darkly forbidding.  
  
He surveyed the joyous scene discontentedly. He felt his newsies were being disloyal by supporting this intruder over their own leader. *Stop it,* Spot he chided himself. *They're just impressed, and you should be too. You figured nobody could sell a hundred papes in an hour, but she did. She's more than earned a placed with your newsies. Get over it*. Spot was about to go offer his grudging congratulations, when he saw that Duchess was making her way towards him. When she reached the spot where he was standing, she bit her lip nervously, then said, "Spot, is there somewhere we can talk?" He tried unsuccessfully to read her expression. "Sure, follow me," he finally responded. She followed him back to the docks, where they sat down with their feet dangling over the edge. "So," he said casually looking over at her, once they were situated, "What did you want to talk about?" She glanced this way and that, unsure of how to start. Finally she spoke. "Well, um . . . You and I didn't exactly get off to a good start . . ." Spot snorted sarcastically, "You can say that again." She ignored this and continued. "It's just… I have a bit of a temper. And… I guess I'm in the habit of defending my leadership. You know how that is." He was beginning to soften towards her inwardly. "Yeah, I sure do," he responded, almost smiling. She was encouraged, and finally said what had been on her mind, the words practically tumbling over each other in their eagerness to get out of her mouth, "So, I'm really sorry for the way I embarrassed you in front of all your newsies, and for the way our first meeting went in general. Truce?" Now the smile that had been threatening before, actually lit Spot's face. Duchess was amazed at the difference it made in his countenance. "Yeah, truce. And I'm sorry for what I said to you last night. I don't normally talk to girls that way. It's just I was a bit annoyed at that moment." They grinned at each other, and spit shook. "Well," Spot said, "I think we have a celebration to get back to. There's no way I'm gonna get anymore work outta those boys today, so we might as well take the festivities over to Manhattan."  
  
"Why Manhattan?" Duchess asked puzzled. Spot grinned. "Well, you can meet Jacky-Boy, their leader, who's a good friend of mine. Brooklyn's on the best terms with Manhattan out of all the territories. We allow all kinds of liberties between the two." Duchess' face cleared at this explanation. "Oh! Like Downtown and the Fan!" Now it was Spot's turn to look mystified. She laughed at his vacant expression. "My territory and one of the neighboring ones in Richmond. We were always going back and forth. Unlike Southside . . ." At that her face clouded, but she didn't offer any further explanation, and Spot didn't ask. "Come on," he said instead, "I think you'll like the Manhattan boys." He stepped up and offered her his hand. Duchess' smile returned as he pulled her up easily, and she followed Spot and the rest of Brooklyn to meet Manhattan.  
  
AN: okay, I posted my chapter, now you PLEASE go post your review! Pretty please with a newsie on top! (pick your fave) For fan fiction authors do not live by bread alone, they must also have reviews! (btw, no offense to the Bible there) So go push the button right now!!! I warn you once again, my sanity is extremely fragile! I will prove this to you by telling you I wear an antique looking key around my neck and claim that Spot gave it to me. I also wear a Celtic knot-work ring which I swear is my wedding ring which is an heirloom of the Conlon family. So you now know the depths of my insanity, so review and make sure the men in the white suits don't come take me away :-) 


	6. a note to explain my impending absence

Okay, sadly, according to my parents, fan fiction and the internet have been consuming too much of my time, so I am not going to be able to update this story for at least a week. This is officially of course. In the wee hours of the morning I might sneak to computer and manage to post something, but I can't make any promises, so see y'all next week!  
  
~Duchess 


	7. Manhattan, the Delancey's, and a problem...

Thanks You's!  
  
Rae Kelly: Thank You, thank you, thank you! You cured my writer's block! Everybody say thanks to Rae, cause if she hadn't helped me out, I would not be posting this chapter now.  
  
Gypsy: Actually I have no idea where my key came from. I stole it from my brother who found it some random place. I guess you could try like an antique store or something . . . sorry I can't be more helpful. And thanks for your encouraging comments on my recent punishment.  
  
JackiWacki: Thank you for your nice *long* review :-) Umm, about a nickname for you, well how bout Argentina? If you don't like that, well think of something you like to do, and name yourself after it. Like my friend loves to sing, so she called herself Lyric (you know, like song lyrics?)  
  
killersabinx: You don't sound like an idiot! *hugs*  
  
baby309blue: Well you will see a bit of Racetrack in this chapter, but he really doesn't play a big role in this story. However, If you're patient, He'll have is very own story eventually. And even sooner than that he will have a large role in Lyric's story, which is next to next in the line up. Haha, you didn't know I had such a grand plan did you? Actually the plan is to pair off as many of our dear newsies as possible ;) Lyric and I (you'll meet her later) have almost the whole series planned out, so you won't be getting rid of me any time soon. *evil laugh*  
  
Lysaka: LOL, my parents never were much for sticking to punishments, so I'm back! I think I'll decline to pass along your kind comments to my parents, after all, I'm already in trouble ;-)  
  
Half-Pint, newsie-lover, Singah, Jo, Corey, Saibie: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
TaurusPrincess: Don't be offended! My best friend lives on Southside. It's nothing personal, I had to pick somewhere didn't I?  
  
AN: Ok, I know you all thought I'd fallen off the face of the earth, but here it is at last! Chapter six! Aren't you all excited? I know I am, cause now I can move on to the much more interesting chapter seven . . . which hopefully will not take nearly so long to post, but I'm not promising anything.  
  
Disclaimer: Ok, as usual I don't own newsies. Honestly if I did would I be here writing fan fiction for free? I don't think so! I would be out getting my newsies book series published for gadzillions of dollars. So anyway. I also don't own Supergirl. That I believe belongs to Krystal Harris. And I don't own Barbara Allen. Actually I don't think anybody owns Barbara Allen. It's a really old folk song, but anyway, to the fic!  
  
The walk from Brooklyn to Manhattan was long, and it was lunchtime by the time they arrived. Spot led the group to a restaurant called Tibby's, which, he informed Duchess, was the Manhattan newsie hang out. "We'll probably find most of 'em here for lunch," he said, pushing open the door. As he did so, the kids and teenagers crowding the booths and tables inside turned to see who was coming in . . . and fell dead silent. After all, it wasn't everyday that all of Brooklyn came over to Manhattan. Something serious must have happened. One newsie, though, seemed un-concerned. He looked about sixteen or seventeen, with sun-streaked, light brown hair. He was about six feet tall, and fairly muscular. The most distinctive things about him were the bandanna around his neck and the black cowboy hat hanging down his back. He slid out of the booth he'd been sitting in, and approached Spot, spitting in his palm. "Hey, Spot. How's it rollin'?" he said. Spot grinned and returned the gesture. "Pretty good, Jacky-Boy, pretty good. How 'bout you?" he responded. "All right. So what brings you here with all of Brooklyn?" he asked, turning serious. Spot grinned again. "A celebration, Jack. I'd like you to meet my newest newsie, Duchess. Duchess this is the leader of the Manhattan newsies, Jack Kelly, though some people call him Cowboy." Duchess extended her hand to shake, but Jack took it and kissed it. The mocking that had been in Spot's expression when he had done the same thing was nowhere to be found in Jack's and she was charmed. She blushed slightly as Jack said, "It's a pleasure to meet such a beautiful girl." She grinned cheekily at him and quipped, "Flattery will get you everywhere." He laughed. For some reason, Spot felt faintly irritated. He couldn't place why, but it had something to do with Duchess flirting with Jack, when she'd knocked him on his rear end for the same gesture. "So, is this just a celebration for your very gorgeous new newsie, or was there something else that brought your whole group down here?" Jack asked turning back to Spot. Spot was about to reply when Bluejay piped up. "She sold a hundred papes in an *hour*!" he exclaimed. Jack's eyes widened, and the previously silent Manhattan newsies all started babbling at once. "Hey! Quiet!" Jack shouted. They settled down after a moment. "So," he said, turning back to Duchess, "Did you really sell a hundred papes in an hour?" Duchess nodded, looking faintly embarrassed. Jack raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty impressive. You're right, Spot. This calls for a celebration." Spot, who had been in a perfectly good mood moments before, simply shrugged sullenly. Jack looked as puzzled as Duchess felt. "Whatsa matter, Spot?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. Spot seemed to shake off whatever it was, and smirked at Jack. "Nothing, Jack be Nimble, Jack be Quick. You wanna jump over a candle stick?" Jack punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Nah, but how bout I introduce Duchess here to Manhattan?" Without waiting for Spot's permission, he took Duchess' arm and led her around the restaurant. At the first booth she met Racetrack, Mush, and Blink. Mush had his arm around a girl, who Duchess was informed was not a newsie. *Ah, a newsie groupie,* she thought, laughing silently. At the next booth, she met Boots, Snipeshooter, Snaps, and Tumbler. (AN: In case you don't know, Snaps is the one who's snapping in his sleep at the beginning, and Tumbler is the little one who slides across the floor in CTB) The next table was where the girls had congregated. A graceful looking black girl was identified as Rhythm. Duchess looked from her to Blues, who was standing slightly behind her. "Rhythm and Blues? Are you two related?" she asked grinning. Blues grinned back at her good naturedly, but Rhythm glared menacingly at her and snapped, "No. And we're not a couple either, so lay off!" Duchess made a placating gesture. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." Rhythm relaxed enough to nod her acceptance of the apology. Duchess wondered for a moment what had set her off so violently, but there were more introductions to be made. The girl sitting next to Rhythm had straight blonde hair, and wore her cap backwards, so it looked like a beret. She had shoved her lunch plate to one side to make room for a sketch pad. "This is Scribbles," Jack said. Scribbles looked up from her drawing, and smiled at Duchess. "I'd shake, but my hands are kind of dirty at the moment," she said, indicating the charcoal smudges on her fingers. "That's ok," Duchess responded affably. Next to Scribbles was a petite girl of perhaps thirteen. She had extremely pale skin and curly black hair. She was called Muse, and had immigrated from Greece when she was very young, which explained her looks. Next was Nightingale. She was named this, it was explained, because she sang very well. Books, however, gave Duchess a meaningful wink, when the girl, who had straight black hair, and striking amber colored eyes, was introduced. Duchess took this to mean that Nightingale was one of the secret birds that Books had told her about earlier. She also noticed that Night, as she was called for short, had a thoughness about her that Duchess had noticed in the Brooklyn newsies, but not in the other Manhattan newsies. She filed this pertinent information about Night away, for whenever she might need it. Next to her was an ethereal looking girl with silver blonde hair and wide blue eyes. She was known as Angel. Duchess held out her hand, and Angel started to stand to shake it, but somehow, ended up sprawled on the floor. Jack tried to disguise his laugh with a cough. "Um, Angel's a little, um, clumsy," he said, trying to keep suppress his laughter, and not doing a very good job of it. Duchess was about to reprimand his when she noticed that Angel was laughing too, so she joined in as she helped Angel up. Two girls who appeared to be best friends were identified as Diction and Pepper. Diction, unlike the rest of the newsies, did not have a New York accent, and spoke with crisp precision. Pepper had brown hair with an auburn tint and muddy green eyes. The last girl at the table had strawberry blonde hair, closer to red than blonde, and deep blue eyes. Jack gestured to her, saying, "This is Rebecca. She's our newest, so she doesn't have a nickname yet." Rebecca greeted her enthusiastically, "Yeah, it's great to meet ya, Duchess! Isn't it just so much fun being a newsie?" She babbled on, but Duchess was watching her hands, which were fluttering around frantically as she spoke. A thought was persistently trying to make its way into her conciousness, as she watched. Then it surfaced so suddenly she blurted it out before even thinking. "Flutterbye!" Rebecca stopped talking, and the other newsies stared at her confused. "What?" Jack asked, mystified. "Umm," Duchess blushed and looked down, "Butterfly, I meant her name should be Butterfly." Comprehension dawned in Jack's expression. "Oh, you mean a nickname for Rebecca here!" Duchess nodded. "Well I think you were right the first time, Flutterbye. Or Flutter for short." What do you think Becca? The flighty girl grinned. "I love it!" Jack nodded approvingly. "All right. Flutter it is then."  
  
Jack was leading Duchess toward the next table when someone came up behind her and demanded sharply, "Where were you on the night of January eighteenth?" She jumped a bit, surprised, and turned to face a girl of about fourteen, with chestnut brown hair and green eyes. "Umm," Duchess eyed her warily. The girl held up a magnifying glass and examined Duchess through it. "I think you were in on last night's bank robbery," She mused as she circled Duchess, examining her from every angle. "No! I see now. You're in on the assassination plot!" Duchess raised her eyebrows and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you too, she said drily." The girl just looked at her outstretched hand suspiciously. At this point Jack cleared his throat, sending a warning look in the odd girl's direction. "Sleuth, this is Duchess. She's the newest Brooklyn newsie." Sleuth looked at Duchess again, then turned back to Jack. "Are you sure Jack? She looks suspicious."  
  
"Okay, well why don't you tell Spot you think his newsie's a criminal," Jack suggested mildly. Sleuth glanced over at Spot, who was smirking at her. She quickly looked away, and took Duchess' hand. "Nice to meet you Duchess," she said meekly. Jack grinned, and informed Duchess, "Sleuth's uncle is a detective. She lets it go to her head sometimes." Duchess nodded, thinking the girl was nuts, but not saying anything.  
  
After that, Jack finished introducing his newsies. (AN: you all know who they are, so why waste time?) At the last table, the sweet looking guy called Crutchy greeted Duchess warmly, then looked somewhere over her left shoulder and said, "Hey Katie." Duchess looked around confused, until Books responded. "Hey Jimmy," she said, smiling. Books looked at Duchess, and explained, "Jimmy's my best friend." Duchess nodded, but was a bit confused. "I thought his name was Crutchy." Books' face tightened almost imperceptibly, and she was silent for a moment. "Well," she finally replied, "I don't call him that."  
  
After that, the Brooklyn newsies joined Manhattan for lunch. When they were finished, the whole group headed for the Distribution Office. Jack looked slightly annoyed when he noticed that Brooklyn appeared to be staying to sell the afternoon edition in Manhattan, but he didn't say anything. So, the Brooklyn newsies paired off with their Brooklyn friends, and they all headed out to carry the banner. Duchess and Spot went with Jack to Central Park. They had been selling for about an hour, in separate spots, but still within sight of each other, when a strange guy approached Duchess and draped his arm around her. "Hey, sweetface," he greeted her. She noticed that another guy, probably his brother by the looks of it, was standing near by looking amused. She nimbly slipped out from under his arm, but assumed a flirty look as she said, "You just wait right here, I'll be right back." She almost gagged as she blew him a kiss. Then she hurried over to Spot. "Can I borrow you cane?" she demanded sharply. "Wha- " Spot started, mystified, but Duchess grabbed the cane before he could continue. "Thanks," she called over her shoulder as she hurried back to where the two guys stood. Spot, whistled for Jack, and motioned for him to come over. The two moved a bit closer and were shocked to see Duchess flirting with the Delancey brothers.  
  
"Did you miss me?" she asked, forcing a seductive smile to her lips. The guys nodded and moved in on her. "Well then come here. I've got something to show you," she said, leading them toward a small pond in the park. Once she had them positioned near the edge of the pond she leaned toward the shorter one, her face barely inches from his.  
  
A short distance away, Jack was holding Spot by the arms to keep him from indiscriminately beating to a pulp the Delancey's and Duchess. "Hey," he said frantically, "She doesn't know the Delancey's are our enemies. If she likes them better than us it's best just to let her go. Spot nodded and quit struggling. He wasn't sure what had him so upset anyway. Still, he was seethingly angry that Duchess seemed open to come-ons from any and all guys except him. He turned his attention back to the scene by the pond.  
  
Duchess could practically see the guy drooling. "So, what did you wanna show me?" he asked suggestively. Duchess dropped the act and her usual smirk lit her features. "This!" she yelled, and punched him hard in the nose. He yelled in surprise and pain and put his hands over his face. Then she used Spot's cane to sweep his feet out from under him, sending him flying into the lake with a tremendous splash. She turned to the taller, and obviously stupider, brother, who was staring at her dumbfounded. She raised her eyebrows at him and tilted her head toward the pond where her first victim was splashing around, trying unsuccessfully to get out. "It seems your friend is in distress. To the rescue!" With that she landed a well placed kick that sent him sailing after his brother.  
  
She dusted off her hands, and turned to return Spot's cane, only to find Spot and Jack a few yards away, with their jaws hanging open. She walked over to them and held out Spot's cane, but he didn't react. She looked at them sheepishly. "I hope those guys weren't friends of yours," she said uncertainly. This seemed to snap the guys out of their trance- like state. They picked their jaws up off the ground and Spot took his cane. Jack was quick to reassure her. "No! Oscar and Morris Delancey are our biggest enemies! It's just, you looked real friendly with 'em right up till you dumped 'em in the lake." Duchess burst out laughing. "I know!" she said, still giggling, "It was too easy." Jack shook his head in consternation. "Well, ya got good taste in enemies at least," he said, patting her shoulder lightly. "Why thank you, Cowboy," she said, sketching a mock curtsey. "So, what do you say we finish getting these papes sold?" He nodded, and the three walked back to their respective selling spots.  
  
A couple hours later, all their papes were gone, and the three left Central Park. "So," Duchess asked, "Where are we headed?" Jack grinned. "Well, I thought we'd catch a show at Medda's," he said. "Yeah," Spot responded enthusiastically, "great idea!" Duchess was mystified. "What?"  
  
"Well, the place is called Irving Hall, actually. It's a vaudeville theater. Medda Larkson's the star, and she also owns the place."  
  
"Oh, ok." Duchess grinned and followed the boys to Irving Hall.  
  
When they arrived the place was bustling with activity, and a red haired woman in a froofy pink dress was onstage. As they made their way toward a table near the front, Jack whispered to Duchess, "That's Medda. I'll introduce you to her later, after the show." Duchess nodded agreeably and the three took their seats.  
  
When Medda had finished her song, a teenage boy and girl came out and did a highly polished latin dance number that evoked wild cheers from the crowd. After two girls came out, and one sat down at the piano. She started to play a song that Duchess recognized immediately. The other girl took center stage and began singing.  
  
"Sometimes I have dreams. Picture myself flying. Above the clouds . . ."  
  
Actually, to say she was singing would be an over statement. She was almost whispering, and was horribly off tune. Where she should have sung the words, "high in the sky," she went silent, looked around frantically, and ran off the stage. The girl at the piano kept playing, but looked understandably panicked.  
  
Duchess didn't really think about what she was doing. All she knew was that a piece of music she loved was being done an injustice, so she jumped up, and continued the song in a strong, clear voice.  
  
Conquering the world  
  
With my magic piano  
  
Never being scared, but then I realize  
  
I'm supergirl and I'm here to save the world  
  
But I wanna know who's gonna save me  
  
I'm supergirl and I'm here to save the world  
  
But I wanna know why I feel so alone  
  
Seems like a dream  
  
But there's one thing missing  
  
Nobody's here with me  
  
To share and know that I've been given  
  
I need someone that's strong enough for me  
  
I'm supergirl and I'm here to save the world  
  
But I wanna know who's gonna save me  
  
I'm supergirl and I'm here to save the world  
  
But I wanna know why I feel so alone  
  
I need someone, I won't stop till I find the one  
  
Who will stop the longing in my life  
  
I need someone, I won't stop till I find the one  
  
Who will stop the longing in my life  
  
I'm supergirl and I'm here to save the world  
  
But I wanna know who's gonna save me  
  
I'm supergirl and I'm here to save the world  
  
But I wanna know why I feel so alone  
  
As she sang, she walked over to the piano, and finally faced the crowd. As her last note echoed around the hall, raucous cheers broke out, and the newsies started the standing ovation. After that the crowd left the hall, since it was the end of the show. The newsies, however, remained. They gathered around Duchess, congratulating her, and asking her where she learned to sing like that. Then a scolding voice made them give her some air, and Medda made her way to Duchess' side.  
  
"Well, young lady, you certainly made a spectacle of yourself!" Duchess blushed and looked down. "Sorry, I just couldn't let it end like that." Medda dropped her faÃ§ade of sternness and smiled. "It was wonderful, I'm glad somebody picked it up after Bitsy lost it. I'm Medda Larkson, and you are?"  
  
"Anastasia Laine, but everybody calls me Duchess." Medda smiled and they shook hands. "So, Duchess, would you like a job?" Duchess burst out laughing. "Performing in vaudeville? My mother would roll over in her grave!" Medda's eyebrows snapped together, but Duchess was quick to reassure her. "I love performing, don't get me wrong, but I just can't go against my parents teachings like that. Besides, I've already got a job, as a Brooklyn newsie." Medda smiled at her. "Well let me introduce you to the rest of the gang. Come on out!" she called. The dancers, and the piano player came out from behind the curtain. Medda gestured to the dancers. "This is Steps," she indicated the guy, "And Pirouette," the girl. Then she pointed toward the other girl, who had played the piano. "And this is Keys." The performers greeted her warmly, then headed off to change out of their costumes. "So," Medda continued, "If you won't work for me, will you at least sing us something else?" Duchess was reluctant, but the newsies quickly added their pleas to Medda's. At last she conceded. "Well, all right." She sat down at the piano and began playing a simple, but haunting melody, and then started singing.  
  
Twas in the merry month of May  
  
when all gay flowers were blooming.  
  
Sweet William on his death bed lay  
  
for the love of Barbara Allen.  
  
He sent his servant to the town  
  
To the place where she was dwelling.  
  
Said, "You must go to my master's house  
  
if your name be Barbara Allen."  
  
So slowly, slowly she gets up  
  
and to his bedside going.  
  
She drew the curtain to one side  
  
and says young man you're dying.  
  
I know I'm sick and very sick  
  
and sorrow dwells within me.  
  
No better, no better I never will be  
  
till I have Barbara Allen.  
  
Do you remember last Saturday night  
  
when I was at the tavern?  
  
You gave your drinks to the ladies there,  
  
but you slighted Barbara Allen.  
  
Then he reached up his pale white hand  
  
intending for to touch her  
  
But she turned away from his bedside  
  
And says young man, I won't have you.  
  
He turned his cheek unto the wall  
  
and bursted out a crying.  
  
Adieu to thee, adieu to all  
  
and adieu to Barbara Allen.  
  
She hadn't more than reached the town  
  
when she heard the death bells ringing.  
  
And as they rang, they seemed to say,  
  
"Hardhearted Barbara Allen."  
  
Oh mother, oh mother, go make my bed.  
  
Make it both long and narrow.  
  
Sweet William died for me today.  
  
I'll die for him tomorrow.  
  
They buried sweet William in the old church yard  
  
and Barbara they laid nigh him.  
  
Out of his grave grew a red, red rose,  
  
and out of hers a briar.  
  
They grew and grew to the old church gate  
  
where they could grow no higher,  
  
And there they tied in a true love knot,  
  
the rose wrapped round the briar.  
  
When Duchess finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place. The girls were openly wiping the eyes, while the guys tried to pretend they had suddenly come down with colds. Medda laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "That was beautiful. Where did you learn it?" Duchess shrugged. "Up in the mountains. They haven't got much to do up there except sing. They're so cut off from the world." She moved toward the Brooklyn group. "Well, it's getting late guys. Shouldn't we be heading back to Brooklyn?" Spot nodded, and the group said their goodbyes and made their way out.  
  
AN: Okay, well I slaved over this for hours, so the least you can do is review. And I'll umm . . . give chocolate to everybody who reviews. Bribes are very effective . . . I hope. But seriously, if you liked it if you hated it, if you didn't care, just review! Fan fiction writers cannot live by bread alone. They must also have reviews! So give me reviews and I'll give you a new chapter. Deal? deal! *spitshakes* 


	8. a new arrival

Twist: Would you believe I already have planned a character named Twist? Is that too odd? She'll have her own story sometime down the road. I hope you like Davey :-)  
  
Liz: I love BSB, speaking of which, have you heard "What Makes You Different" ? It's on the Princess Diaries soundtrack with Supergirl, and it's awesome!  
  
Jacki: You grew up in Brasil? That is so cool! Well, I don't know what to call you then, maybe something completely random would work for you . . . I love reading your long babbling reviews :-)  
  
So, chocolate for all reviewiers! Rae, just put the slingshot down nice and easy . . . *hands over chocolate* Except TaurusPrincess who gets . . . umm, what do you want Taurus? How bout Skittles?  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Just as Duchess reached the door, Medda called her back. "There's someone else I'd like you to meet dear," she said, as the rest of the newsies made their way out.  
  
"Okay," Duchess replied agreeably. She liked Medda already, and followed willingly as the red haired woman led her to the backstage area. Once there Medda called up the stairs, "Blush, dear! There's someone I'd like you to meet."  
  
A nervous sounding voice called down the stairs, "It's not a guy is it?"  
  
Medda chuckled. "No dear. It's not a guy," she assured.  
  
There was silence from the second floor for a moment. Then, "Okay, just a second." As they waited, Medda explained.  
  
"Blush just arrived from Paris, and she had something of a bad experience there, so I didn't want to make her deal with all those rowdy boys just yet. Duchess nodded, and wondered just what kind of experience could make a girl afraid to come in contact with men. Just then a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Medda descended the stairs. She looked about sixteen, and was dressed simply in a green skirt and white blouse. Her simple attire did nothing to hide the fact that she was gorgeous. Her long, curly red hair was obviously natural. She had clear green eyes and faintly freckled pale skin. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Medda spoke.  
  
"Duchess, this is my niece, Skye Larkson, though she insists on being called Blush."  
  
Duchess cocked her head. "Why?"  
  
To her amazement, Blush turned beet red in a split second.  
  
"Oh. Well Blush, it's nice to meet you. I'm Duchess." She extended her hand, wisely skipping the spit. Blush took her hand and smiled.  
  
"Nice to meet you Duchess. I heard you singing out there. You've got a great voice."  
  
Now it was Duchess' turn to blush. "I'm not that good. Nothing compared to a friend of mine." Her smile faltered slightly as she thought, once again, of Lyric, and wondered where she was. Medda laughed. "I think you're doing yourself an injustice dear," she said.  
  
"No, really. I mean, my voice is pretty good. I'm not one for false modesty, but Lyric . . ." she paused, remembering how they used to sing together. "She has the voice of an angel."  
  
"Well, maybe someday I'll meet her," Medda said.  
  
"Yeah, maybe someday," Duchess echoed. Shaking herself out of her memories, she asked Blush, "So, Blush, do you perform?"  
  
Blush's expression turned dark for a moment. "Yes, I performed in Paris, but right now I'm taking a break. It got a little wearing," she responded. Duchess nodded.  
  
"Well, Blush, I hope we'll see each other again soon, but right now I'd better go before Spot gives me up for dead.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
AN: Ok, so I know this is a lot shorter than my previous chapters, but it's also up a lot sooner isn't it? I decided to write shorter chappies so I could post more often. Now why don't you just be nice and review. You know how unstable I get when people don't review. And, umm , chocolate chip cookies for reviewers this time :-) unless you don't want those, in which case, tell me what you do want and I'll see what I can do ;-) 


	9. dockside confidences

Rae: Thanks for the hairbrush!  
  
Singah: It was NOT a run on sentence!  
  
Liz: nope, I have no bsb CD's *sob* it's a money thing, you know? I'm always broke!  
  
Yanchi: In your dreams!  
  
Tiger: What were you doing up at 5:30 am anyway???  
  
Killersabinx: What exactly are you worried about?  
  
Jacki: Blush isn't French, she just spent a year there.  
  
TaurusPrincess and Liz: *evil laugh* you will have to wait until Blush's story, which is the sequel to this one, to find out what's up with her. Just another way to keep you reading ;-)  
  
Chocolate chip cookies to all reviewers as promised, except Taurus, Skittles for you!  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Duchess had just reached the door when she heard Jack and Spot talking.  
  
"So, Spot. Where'd ya get that bruise on your jaw?" Jack asked.  
  
Duchess smirked, and lingered just out of their line of sight. Spot stammered, and scuffed one foot against the pavement. "Umm . . ." he cleared his throat and looked away. "I had a little run in with Dagger," he finally responded, naming the leader of the Harlem newsies. Duchess gasped indignantly and stepped outside, where they could see her.  
  
"Like hell you did!" she exclaimed. Being a missionary's daughter, this was seriously strong language. "I gave you that yesterday, remember?"  
  
Spot glared at her, trying to hide his embarrassment. Jack burst out laughing. In fact he was laughing so hard, it was a moment before he could speak.  
  
"Y- y- you?" he finally managed to choke out, looking incredulously at Duchess.  
  
Duchess' eyes went dead cold as she stared Jack down.  
  
"Yeah, me. You want one too, Cowboy?"  
  
Jack just continued to laugh. Not a wise move. In an instant, Duchess performed at indentical kick to the one that she'd used on Spot the day before, though aimed higher. She raised her eyebrows at Jack's stunned expression and remarked, "Now you know, don't you?" Jack just continued to stare. Spot took hold of Duchess arm and started dragging her away.  
  
"Come on. We'd better get out of here before he comes out of it," he said. But as Duchess looked back, Jack was grinning. She grinned back, and he gave her a conspiratorial wink. Spot, who was busy putting distance between himself and Manhattan, didn't notice.  
  
As the group reached the bridge, the thought that had been nagging Duchess all day, finally surfaced. "He's just like Lyric!" she exclaimed. Startling and mystifying the other newsies.  
  
"What?" Spot asked.  
  
"Well, when I met Jack, I knew he reminded me of someone, but I couldn't put my finger on it till just now. I realized he's just like my best friend Lyric."  
  
Spot gave her a strange look. "Your friend looks like Jack? Poor girl."  
  
Duchess laughed. "No, she doesn't look like him! She acts like him! Actually she looks like . . ." she thought a moment. "Well, actually she looks like Racetrack, but more, you know, feminine. She's Italian, I guess that's what I'm trying to say."  
  
Spot just continued to glance sideways at her as they walked.  
  
When they reached the lodging house, nobody was in the mood to go to bed, so Chip suggested a card game.  
  
"Okay," Packrat concurred, "So what do we play?"  
  
"How bout blackjack?" Shiner suggested.  
  
"Hey, Duchess," Books called, "You wanna play blackjack with us?"  
  
Duchess froze and went pale. For a moment she seemed incapable of speech, then she snapped, "No!" and ran for the door. Spot, who was standing right beside it, shot out his arm and caught her before she could get outside.  
  
"Hey!" he exclaimed with a worried look, "Whatsa matter?"  
  
Duchess took a deep breath and calmed herself. "Nothing, I'm just gonna go upstairs. See y'all later." And with that she left the lobby.  
  
A few minutes later, she came back down, Bible in hand, and slipped out the door. A few of the guys moved to stop her, but Spot shook his head and followed her quietly. He found her sitting on the edge of the dock, paging through a book full of funny symbols.  
  
"What's that gobbledygook?" he asked. Duchess looked up startled. She hadn't heard him come up behind her.  
  
"It's my Bible," she responded, continuing to turn pages.  
  
"Don't look like no Bible I've ever seen," Spot said, looking at the book skeptically.  
  
She looked up at him again, slightly annoyed. "It's in Japanese," she informed him.  
  
"Oh." He was silent a moment, as she flipped more pages. "So, umm, what're you looking for?" he finally asked.  
  
She gave him an appraising look before answering, "My faith."  
  
"You think it's in that book?"  
  
"I don't know. My mother told me God would always be with us, and never to doubt Him, but a lot of times it's been hard." She continued, seeming to forget that Spot was even there. "It was hard when my parents died on the boat before we even got to America. It was hard in San Francisco, when the only place we could get shelter were the opium dens. It was hard when we got stranded in Santa Fe for weeks, (AN: I know, I know, it's been done!) It was hard when my best friend skipped town without a word. And it's hard now, when that bastard killed my brother and I couldn't even go to his funeral because he made it look like it did it!"  
  
Duchess clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Spot's eyes widened, then filled with compassion. He sat down next to her.  
  
"You wanna talk about it?" he asked gently. She nodded, and proceeded to tell him all about Blackjack Dodge, and what he'd done to her brother. When she finished, he was silent for a moment. Then he said, "So that's why you got so upset about blackjack in there." She nodded.  
  
"You understand I don't want this to be public knowledge?" she asked nervously.  
  
"Hey, my lips are sealed. To prove it to ya, I'll tell you somethin' nobody but Books and Jack knows about me, or my family I guess."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Spot sighed and leaned back against a crate, trying to think of the best way to begin. He let his mind drift back to events that had taken place years before he was born. Stories he'd been told so often, he felt as if he had been there.  
  
***BEGIN FLASHBACK***  
  
ICounty Claire, Ireland 1880/I  
  
Fiona and Deirdre Donovan were twins, but you wouldn't think so. Fiona had light red hair and copper colored eyes, and her skin was like peaches and cream. Deirdre on the other hand, had dark hair and eyes that shifted between blue, green, and gray. She was almost unnaturally pale. The girls' personalities were as dissimilar as their looks. Fiona was bright and outgoing, and loved the rolling green hills of Ireland above all things. Men were drawn to her, but she didn't have many suitors because her strong personality scared most men away. Deirdre, on the other hand barely ever spoke. Her eyes spoke more than well enough. Most people avoided making eye contact with her. There was something haunting about her sea colored eyes. She spent most of her time just staring out at the ocean, letting the salty sea breeze blow her wavy black hair back from her face. She both loved the sea and feared it, so she watched it from afar. Her obsession with the sea led people to comment jokingly, or not so jokingly, that she must be part selkie. (AN: A selkie is a mythological creature that can take both human and seal shape) The children at school started calling her Daft Deirdre until Fiona threatened to beat them up. Needless to say, despite Deirdre's other-worldly beauty, she had even fewer suitors than her sister.  
  
And so it happened that the twins reached their seventeenth year thinking they might never marry. Then came the day that two prodigal sons of the village returned.  
  
Teigue Sullivan and Patrick Conlon had left the village three years before to seek their fortunes in London. The two best friends had finally grown weary of the indignities heaped on them by the English, and come home, ready to marry and settle down. It didn't take them long to find the lucky girls. To the disgust and disappointment of the "normal" girls, Teigue fell hard and fast for Fiona, while Patrick was captivated by Deirdre.  
  
Patrick proposed the first time he met Deirdre. If that weren't strange enough, she accepted him. He was the first man who wasn't afraid of her strange ways, and she fell in love at first sight. Fiona, on the other hand, made Teigue chase her around for a year before she finally accepted him. Then the twins were married in a double wedding.  
  
Six months later, it was obvious the unconventional young couples were still not accepted in the village, and times were hard. They decided to move to America. Fiona was pregnant at the time, and there was some discussion as to whether she should wait and come over after the baby was born. She was having none of it, though. So the four Irish young people set out to make a new life for themselves.  
  
Fiona went into labor on Ellis Island, and young Francis Jackson Sullivan became the first American citizen in his family. About two years after that, Deirdre gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. She named them Liam Rhys and Rhiannon Kathleen Conlon. Both children had light brown hair and the same changeable sea colored eyes as their mother. When the twins were eight years old, there was a terrible fire at the factory where Patrick worked. He was killed. Deirdre tried to be strong for the sake of her children, but she couldn't see the point of going on without the one person who truly loved her.  
  
And so, about a month after the fire, she slipped silently out of their Manhattan apartment and made her way to the harbor. Looking out at the sea, she suddenly knew why she had been so afraid of it, yet drawn to it her whole life. It was to be her demise, and her escape. She turned once more to look back at the city. "Goodbye Fiona," she whispered, "Take good care of my babies." A single tear slipped down her cheek. Then she turned toward the water again. As she stepped to the edge of the dock, she could almost hear Patrick's voice calling to her. "I'm coming darling!" she called, then slipped without struggling, into the icy depths of the sea.  
  
***END FLASHBACK***  
  
Duchess looked at Spot with stunned compassion. "That's terrible," she breathed.  
  
Spot shrugged, trying to act like it didn't matter, but Duchess saw through it in an instant. At a loss for words, she put her arms around him in a gesture of comfort. He took a few shuddering breaths, but managed not to cry. When he seemed calm, she let him go and they sat for a few minutes in pensive silence.  
  
"So," she said, attempting brightness, "Can I call you Liam?" Duchess was relieved to see his usual smirk return.  
  
"If you got a death wish," he responded.  
  
"Okay, Liam," she teased.  
  
"I'm gonna get you, Laine!" he yelled as he chased her back down the dock to the lodging house.  
  
"In your dreams Conlon!" she called over her shoulder. When she reached the door, she waited for Spot to catch up. "You know," she commented, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." He linked arms with her.  
  
"I think you may be right," he said, "For a change."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
AN: Much longer chappie isn't it? And how do my readers thank me? They review! It's a give and take relationship here people. So do your part. Oh, and Snickers bars this time guys ;-) 


	10. church

Singah: I wouldn't think you'd be so eager for me and Spot to get together, lol  
  
MOOBUG: Yes I am going to write a story about Blink . . . eventually. And I really should say co-write since me and my dear friend Lyric are gonna write it together, like pretty much all the stories after this one.  
  
L'etoile: Happy (belated) Birthday!  
  
Marron: Thanks . . . I think  
  
Yanchi: MY SPOT! Not yours  
  
Jacki: Yes, Spot and Jack are cousins. And no, Jack's mom is not the one who sing's Patrick darling . . . esp since it was Spot's mom that married Patrick, but anyway.  
  
Thanks and assorted chocolate to all reviewers!  
  
****  
  
The next day, Saturday, Duchess came down to the lobby to find Spot waiting for her. "Wanna sell with me today?" he asked.  
  
She grinned. "Sure, Liam"  
  
He looked around frantically to see if anybody had heard. "Don't call me that in public!"  
  
She laughed. "All right, Conlon. Come on then, the papes won't sell themselves you know!" He quickly followed her out the door.  
  
They sold well that day, not that there was any doubt that they would. They made a good team, Duchess charming the men, and catering to the old ladies with her sob stories, while Spot improving the truth and flirting with the girls. They easily sold three hundred.  
  
When they returned to the lodging house it was pretty late and Duchess decided to turn in, rather than play poker with the boys. She had to get up early tomorrow to go to church. Even earlier than usual since she would have to find a church first. She went up to the bunk room, read a few pages in her Bible, and crawled into bed.  
  
The next morning Duchess got up a bit after dawn and dressed in her best skirt and blouse. Forgoing her usual suspenders and newsie cap, she braided her hair tightly and crept downstairs. When she reached the lobby, she was surprised to see someone lurking in the shadows. She squinted into the darkness, then her eyes widened. "Spot?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah?" he responded, peering up the stairs to make sure she was alone.  
  
"What are you doing up so early on a Sunday?"  
  
"Well, umm . . . I'm uh . . ." Spot looked around flustered. "Swear you won't tell nobody?" he asked in all seriousness. She nodded her assent. "Okay, well if you must know I'm going to Mass."  
  
"Really? That's great! Can I come with you? I was wondering how I was gonna find a church."  
  
Spot looked at her stunned. "Y- you were?"  
  
She grinned at his confusion. "Well sure! I'm a protestant born and raised, but we all believe in the same God, don't we? Besides, it's good to try new things."  
  
He grinned in relief. "Well come on then! We gotta hurry if we're gonna make six o'clock mass." He offered her his arm, and they headed out the door.  
  
On the way to the church, Duchess kept trying to figure out a way to phrase her question. Finally she just came out and said it. "Spot, don't take this the wrong way, but . . . you don't exactly seem the type to go to mass."  
  
He laughed. "Well, my parents were Irish, if you'll remember. I was raised Catholic, and it's sorta ingrained, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean," she said smiling.  
  
When they reached the church, Spot led the way to a pew a few up from the back. They sat down and waited for the service to start. A few moments later it did, and Duchess discovered that not all churches were created equal. First of all, she didn't understand a word the priest was saying, since the service was conducted in Latin. Spot was hard pressed not to disrupt the service with hysterical laughter when he saw the look on Duchess' face. He managed to control himself, however, and Duchess watched him carefully and mimicked his responses as best she could.  
  
After the service, Spot finally was able to release his mirth. "Oh, the look on your face," he laughed for a couple minutes straight before he could speak again. "Priceless!" And he laughed all the way back to the lodging house, ignoring Duchess' threatening glare.  
  
****  
  
AN: okay, this was kinda short, but I expect the next chappie should be up pretty soon, this just seemed the right moment to end the chapter, so I did. And not the most action packed chapter either, but hey, it was fun to write. So, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! You know you want to, and you get chocolate or whatever for reviewing. Everybody's so picky! So now the bribe is whatever you want, and I'll psychicly know what it is, so you don't have to tell me :-) Of course if it's Spot, you'll have to make do with chocolate, cause he's mine!!! Now push the button, you know you want to :P 


	11. old songs and old friends

Miss Ice: Thanks for the cookie!  
  
Taurus Princess: Of course I know where Bottoms Up is! Unfortunately I couldn't find a waiter willing to be electronically transferred, so pizza it is ;-)  
  
Yanchi, Marron, and Moobug: You're all wrong! Spot is MINE!  
  
Thanks and assorted desserts (or pizza) to all reviewers!  
  
****  
  
When they reached the lodging house, most of the newsies were awake, and hanging around in the lobby. Books, Candy, and Emma were sitting on the stairs. Chip, Packrat, and Shiner were huddled in the far corner, discussing something. The rest of the group were seated on various couches and chairs or on the floor. "Heya Spot!" Bluejay greeted, looking up from the dime novel he was reading.  
  
"Heya Jay," Spot responded. Then he headed over to the stairs. "So, little sister," he said in a displeased tone of voice, "Why didn't you come to mass today?" Books shrugged. "I was tired. I haven't missed a Sunday in a good long while, give me a break!" Spot sighed and layed off the leader act.  
  
"Okay Books, but this better not get to be a regular occurrence."  
  
"Sure thing, little bro." Books loved to remind Spot that he was twelve minutes younger than her and it annoyed the heck out of him.  
  
"Grrrr." It was anyone's guess what would have happened next, had Duchess not chose that moment to blurt out, "Good Lord Blues! Don't you know any happy songs?" Blues had been strumming his banjo and absently humming a slow, sad spiritual. The dark skinned boy looked up at her surprised.  
  
"This is the music of my people," he said solemnly. Duchess was not impressed.  
  
"Look I knew plenty of 'your people' down south, and they knew happy songs."  
  
Everyone rather expected Blues to get annoyed with Duchess, but instead he grinned his slow, bright smile. "I guess I can't fool a Richmond girl," he said, "Okay, you win."  
  
"Don't I always?" Duchess asked with an impish grin. Blue just shook his head as he started playing an upbeat tune on his banjo. Duchess recognized the melody, but couldn't quite place it until Blues sang the first verse.  
  
"One bright morning, when this life is o'er, I'll fly away. To a home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away."  
  
Duchess' eyes sparkled as she joined him on the chorus:  
  
I'll fly away, Oh Glory  
  
I'll fly away; in the morning  
  
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,  
  
I'll fly away.  
  
When the shadows of this life have gone,  
  
I'll fly away;  
  
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,  
  
I'll fly away  
  
I'll fly away, Oh Glory  
  
I'll fly away; in the morning  
  
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,  
  
I'll fly away  
  
Just a few more weary days and then,  
  
I'll fly away;  
  
To a land where joy shall never end,  
  
I'll fly away  
  
I'll fly away, Oh Glory  
  
I'll fly away; in the morning  
  
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,  
  
I'll fly away.  
  
As she sang, Duchess moved around the room, getting everyone up and moving. She helped them catch onto the simple chorus and by the end, everyone was singing. As Blues strummed the last chord, they all collapsed on various pieces of furniture, laughing and trying to catch their breath. As soon as Duchess had recovered enough to speak, she exclaimed, "Now that's what I call church music!"  
  
****  
  
The next day, a little before noon, Spot and Duchess met up with Secrets, Blues, Magpie, and a few others and headed for Manny's Pub, the Brooklyn newsie hangout. They were about two blocks away when Duchess caught sight of a familiar face passing in the opposite direction. "STOP!" she yelled. All the newsies stopped short. So did the red haired boy, passing them on the sidewalk. She rolled her eyes at the newsies. "Not you." She turned back to the boy. He looked to be about seventeen and was a good eight inches taller than her and fairly burly. He had also gone pale at the sight of her. Duchess' eyes had gone dangerously cold. She pointed to a nearby bench. "Sit." He sat. "Explain."  
  
Behind Duchess, Blues leaned over and whispered to Spot, "Umm, is it just me, or did we miss something?"  
  
"We missed something," Spot affirmed.  
  
The boy was glancing around with a panicked expression. "D-D-Duchess! Wh- what're you doing in New York?" Duchess shook her head.  
  
"Uh uh, Tavish. You're the one doing the explaining. You just up and disappeared three months ago, leaving the rest of us to wonder if you were dead, and I want answers . . . NOW!" She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently as the boy she had called Tavish attempted to form an explanation.  
  
"Well, uh . . . the thing is . . . uh . . ."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I got word that my sister was sick and I had to leave right away. It was urgent!"  
  
"So urgent you didn't have time to so much as leave a note?"  
  
Tavish turned a dull red. "Well, um . . . I guess I didn't think of that," he said sheepishly.  
  
Duchess nodded her acceptance of his explanation and he sighed with relief.  
  
"So," she said, "How is Amie now?"  
  
"Oh, she's fine. It was pneumonia, but she got better"  
  
"Glad to hear it. So, still sellin papes?"  
  
He looked down. "Nah, I got a job in a factory."  
  
Duchess' eyes widened in disbelief. "My Tavish, working in a factory? I think not." She looked over her shoulder at Spot and the rest, who were simply watching the spectacle. "Hey, Spot!"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You got an extra bunk for Tavish here?"  
  
"Sure, if he's got what it takes to be Brooklyn."  
  
"Oh, believe me, he does."  
  
Duchess took Tavish's hand and led him over to the group. "Tavish, this is Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies, and Secrets, Blues, Magpie, Books, Candy, and Packrat, some of his newsies. Guys, this is Ian McTavish, Tavish for short."  
  
Spot and Tavish spit shook, and the group, including its newsest member, continued on to lunch.  
  
Spot pulled Duchess a little away from the others. "Well, if I didn't believe you before about being a leader, I sure do now!"  
  
She just smirked at him and went to talk to Tavish. Spot watched her go, an annoyed expression on his face. As she linked arms with the Scottish boy, talking animatedly, Spot recalled how possessively she had called him "My Tavish." He wondered if Tavish was, or had been, her guy. For some reason the idea made him angry. He glowered and turned away from the pair as Duchess laughed at something Tavish said.  
  
****  
  
Tavish looked back at Spot. "Are you sure that guys tough enough to be leader?" he asked skeptically.  
  
"Now, Tavish, you know better than to judge by appearances," Duchess chided.  
  
He laughed, "Yeah, yeah I do, but you could take him." Now it was Duchess' turn to laugh. "Of course I could. In fact, I already have."  
  
"So why's he still head of Brooklyn?"  
  
"Well, I got out of the leader business. Besides, there's more to taking over a territory than soaking the leader. He's got all those big burly guys' respect to back him up."  
  
Tavish nodded, understanding. Duchess felt the time had come to change the subject.  
  
"So, Amie's still living with your aunt?"  
  
"Yeah. It's better for her. She can be a real lady, you know?"  
  
Duchess supposed she should have taken offense at the insinuation that newsie girls were not 'real ladies,' but hey, it was true. "Yeah, I know what you mean."  
  
"So, how's Johnny?" Tavish knew immediately that he had said something wrong. Duchess stopped walking, and her jaw clenched. "My brother is dead."  
  
"Oh my God, Duch! How? When?"  
  
"Blackjack beat him to death five days ago." Tavish placed a brotherly arm around her shoulder. He knew nothing he could say could make her feel better, so he didn't say anything. "That's why I'm in New York. Blackjack made it look like I did it, and I had to run." They walked like that, arm in arm for a little ways more, then Duchess broke away and grinned at him. "Hey, let's not be depressed. John wouldn't want that."  
  
"You're right, he wouldn't." And they rejoined the rest of the group as they walked into Manny's.  
  
****  
  
A fragment of melody was playing over and over in Spot's head.  
  
I'm Supergirl, and I'm here to save the world, but I wanna know, why I feel so alone . . . I need someone who's strong enough for me . . .  
  
And as the song played, the image of the tall red haried boy with his arm around Duchess' shoulders haunted Spot. He tried to shake off the weird feeling. 'Come on, this is Duchess you're thinking about! She's just a friend. And a new one at that.' He successfully banished the uncomfortable thoughts as the group arrived at Manny's.  
  
****  
  
AN: You know you want to review! You do . . . so hit the button and review. Otherwise, I'm going to hold the yet to be written next chapter hostage. So go review! What are you waiting for? 


	12. a thank you and a new proprietress

Rae: If I got them together the story would be over. That wouldn't be any fun, so just be patient ;-)  
  
Marron: *is not fooled by the icecream* My Spot! *grabs him back*  
  
TaursPrincess: Kidnap two, I want one! And no green is not Spot's color, but I do love making him wear it!  
  
Stripes McKee: excellent use of exclamation points. I feel so loved :-)  
  
Yanchi: My Spot! You're just delusional if you think he loves you, cause he doesn't. He loves ME!!!  
  
Half: Spot's not in love yet. But he's getting there. I like Tavish too, but not as much as I like Spot ;-)  
  
sab: He wasn't singing it, he was remembering when Duchess sang it. Maybe that wasn't too clear . . . I dunno, I try.  
  
Loud Mouth: Glad you like it, here's more :-)  
  
****  
  
  
  
Over the next two weeks, Duchess came to feel very at home among the Brooklyn newsies. They filled the place that had been empty when she left her own newsies in Richmond. Brooklyn stuck together, so she was friends with everyone of course, but some of the group became special friends. Books, Emma, Matches, Bluejay, Secrets, Blues, but especially Spot. People were constantly speculating that they were a couple, but it wasn't like that. They always sold together and talked openly about most things. Duchess quickly came to look upon Spot as her best friend, and he felt the same way about her. Neither of them would admit to the niggling feeling that they could be something more, not even to themselves.  
  
One evening, after a hard day of selling, the newsies were relaxing in the Lobby when Books approached Duchess. "Hey, Duch, can I talk to you?" she asked, tugging her sleeve nervously.  
  
"Sure, Books." Duchess shot a questioning look at her friend as they made their way to the privacy of the girl's bunkroom. Once there, Books shut the door then turned to face Duchess.  
  
"Duchess, I just wanted to say thanks," Books began.  
  
"Thanks for what?" Duchess asked bewildered.  
  
"Thanks for being friends with Spot. He's never had a real close friend like you are before."  
  
"But Spot's got tons of friends."  
  
"Well, yeah, I guess, but they're all so intimidated by the fact that he's the leader of Brooklyn that they can't really get close to him. You're not like that."  
  
"Well what about you?"  
  
Books smiled. "Well I'm not intimidated by him of course. But it's not the same, cause I'm his sister."  
  
Duchess wasn't sure quite what to say to this. "Well . . . you're welcome, I guess," she finally replied. The two girls looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, then Books opened the door and they returned to the lobby.  
  
***  
  
Three days after that conversation, the newsies' selling was cut short by a sudden thunderstorm shortly after noon. They raced back to the lodging house from all over Brooklyn, holding their extra papes, if they had them, over their heads like umbrellas. As they came in, they occupied themselves with various indoor activities. Spot got a poker game going, and most of the group was engaged in either participating or watching. He tried to get Duchess to join the fun, but Blues was teaching her a new gospel song, and she couldn't be persuaded. Among the other newsies not involved in the game were Books, who was reading, and Candy, who was doing her best to separate a licorice stick from Emma who was rather attached to it.  
  
All these activities came to an abrupt halt when the door to the lodging house swung open and banged against the wall. In the doorway, a woman's figure was silhouetted against the stormy sky. The assembled newsies stared in shock. Spot was the first to find his voice. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" He demanded in his King of Brooklyn voice. The woman entered the lobby and set down a large, heavy looking carpet bag. She was tall and thin, and looked to be in her late twenties. Her brown hair was twisted up into a knot on top of her head and witty intelligence sparkled in her grey eyes. "Why yes I would like to come in," she said, as thought responding to a gracious invitation, "How kind of you to ask. My name is Karen Mayfield and I am the new proprietress of this lodging house."  
  
Spot looked slightly embarrassed, but held on to his arrogant attitude. "What are you talking about? We don't need a proprie- pro- whatever it is."  
  
"Proprietress," Books supplied, "And Spot's right, we don't need one."  
  
Karen was not daunted. "I'm afraid the Children's Aid Society thinks differently," she informed them unflinchingly, "Someone would have been sent sooner, but we were only just informed that that Mr. Carlton left last month."  
  
"And good riddance!" Spot said emphatically. This time Karen looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, yes. I'll admit that from what I've been told, Mr. Carlton was not the best choice-"  
  
"Not the best choice?" Books demanded incredulously, "He charges us double and lets the place go to Hell in a handbasket, and you say he wasn't the best choice? Damn right he wasn't the best choice!"  
  
"Books!" Spot exclaimed, shocked at his sister's language.  
  
"Sorry Spot, but it's true."  
  
Karen Mayfield looked shocked as well. "Well, I certainly hadn't been told any of this!" she exclaimed indignantly, "I can assure you I am nothing like that odious man."  
  
Spot looked around at his newsies. Books and Duchess both gave him encouraging nods. "All right, lady," he finally conceded, "You can stay, but if there's any funny business like before, we'll make sure you can't wait to leave." His eyes went cold grey with this last warning. Karen didn't look in the least intimidated.  
  
"Very well, we have a deal then, Mr . . ." she trailed off questioningly as she extended her hand to shake.  
  
"Conlon, Spot Conlon," Spot responded, spitting in his palm before shaking with her. Karen was obviously disgusted, but managed to finish the hand shake. "Pleased to meet you Mr. Conlon," she said.  
  
"And you, Miss Mayfield," he responded, smirking, now playing the gentleman. Spot looked back at the other newsies, inclining his head in the direction of their new proprietress. At this they all got up and introduced themselves.  
  
****  
  
All right, I know, another action packed chapter, but gimme a break! I working on it! Next chapter is gonna be awesome! Much action, I promise. But I'll only post it if you review, so go, hit the button! You know you want to :-) 


	13. More than friends?

Yanchi: You're the one who's on something. Spot's my man, and he loves ME!  
  
FictionHobbit: OMG! You're from Richmond? Me too! But you probably guessed that since I wrote about it, huh? Still live there? Anyway, thanks for reviewing ALL my chapters. Most ppl don't take the time to do that when they come into a story late. I really appreciate it :-)  
  
Marron: Yeah right, keep dreamin'  
  
Sami: What's wrong with where I left it? I just didn't see the need to do the introductions yet again, so I left it to you to imagine the introductions.  
  
Iris: Wish granted . . . kinda  
  
Arrow: thank you for the LONG review. I love long reviews. Why don't you think Spot and Duchess should be together? You'll just have to wait for the rest of the story to find out what I think, huh?  
  
killersabinx: I *hope* that was a compliment . . . as in you think mine are well written ;-)  
  
OrliChica: Actually I have utterly no idea what Flash's name (Su Mai Lin) is. I just made it up. It sounded good, so I went with it. Not to offend Japanese ppl or anything, it just worked.  
  
Jacki: Of course I missed you! And it's fun to fight over Spot. Why do you think he has any say??? LOL  
  
Rae, dreamcoat, sab, and meggiebaby81: Thanks!  
  
Assorted bribes to all reviewers. And those of you who didn't . . . No chocolate for you!  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
Karen, she insisted they use her first name, was quickly accepted by the newsies. She had seemed somewhat uptight at first, but by the end of her first evening at the lodging house the general consensus was that she was all right "for one of those charity types." She seemed to take a special liking to Duchess, who had dusted off her "good" manners for the occasion of meeting the new proprietress. The relative novelty of an adult in the lodging house wore off quickly, and four days later it seemed as though she had always been there. On Friday when she woke the newsies up for the fourth time, it had become a routine. A few of the newsies actually paused to consider this, but two fifteen year olds had much more important things on their minds.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
DUCHESS' POV:  
  
Gosh, I can't believe I've only known Spot for a little more than two weeks! It's seems like we've always been best friends. Well, that's the way it was with me and Lyric too, so maybe it's not so strange . . . I wonder where she is, I hope she's not- No! I am NOT going to think that! I'll think about Spot instead. His eyes are the most amazing color, like the sky right before a storm, and he's so cute . . . okay, STOP! What am I thinking?! This is Spot we're talking about, my best friend! He'd never see me as anything more. And what do I care? I don't think of him that way! All right, fine, maybe I do. But what am I supposed to do about it? He told me himself he thinks of me like another sister . . . It's hopeless, so I might as well keep my mouth shut.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
SPOT'S POV:  
  
I can't BELIEVE I told Duchess I think of her as a sister! What was I thinking? I think of her as a lot of things, but a SISTER isn't one of them. Who do I even think I'm kidding? It must be totally obvious how much I like her. Yeah, like her, that's ALL. Yeah, sure Conlon, nice try. You know you're nuts over the girl. Why don't you just tell her? Well what if she doesn't feel the same way? The great Spot Conlon doesn't get rejected by girls. Better just to shut up about it unless she says something.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
Late that afternoon Spot and Duchess finished selling. "Well, I guess we should head for Manny's," Duchess said, suddenly feeling awkward without pape selling to occupy her. Spot shook his head.  
  
"No, there's something I want to show you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's a surprise. Come on!" He grabbed her hand and led her through the streets toward the river. A few minutes later they were staring up at the Brooklyn Bridge. Duchess looked sidewise at Spot. "You wanted to show me the Brooklyn Bridge?"  
  
"Well, sorta. Come on." He led her onto the bridge, walking until they were about a quarter of the way across. He grinned impishly at her. "Watch this!" He leaned far over the railing and yelled. She burst out laughing.  
  
"You're crazy!" He shrugged.  
  
"Try it." She shook her head, laughing.  
  
"Try it," he insisted again, pulling her over to the edge.  
  
"All right!" She rolled her eyes at him, then leaned over and let out an ear piercing sceam. She looked back at him, her eyes sparkling. "You were right," she said, as she turned around. Spot had been leaning close to her as she screamed, so when she turned around, their faces were mere inches from each other. "Of course I was," Spot said smirking, but his trademark expression quickly faded as he realized how close their faces were. Her lips were right there . . .  
  
Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and kissed her. He pulled back quickly, searching her eyes for her reaction, praying it was the one he wanted. His prayer was answered as the shocked expression on Duchess' face turned to a smile. Then she leaned forward and returned the kiss. This time, it didn't end so quickly. In fact it went on for quite a while. For a while, it was wonderful. Then Spot pulled her close and started to take it to another level. Duchess shoved away immediately, hurt in her eyes. "What was that?" she demanded angrily. Spot was bewildered. She had seemed perfectly willing.  
  
"I thought- You were-"  
  
"You thought what? That because I kissed you I was willing to take it all the way?"  
  
Spot looked abashed, but still confused. "Well . . . yeah." Duchess made a disgusted sound and shook her head. "Typical," she muttered.  
  
"Duchess, what *exactly* is the problem here?" he asked, truly bewildered. She looked at him, the anger fading from her eyes.  
  
"You really don't know, do you?"  
  
"No."  
  
She sighed, remembering what the girls had told her about Spot and his many girls. "He's got a new girl every week," Candy had said, "You just be careful Duch." Duchess had laughed it off at the time, but now she understood.  
  
"Spot," she began cautiously, "You know how you go through girls so fast?"  
  
He nodded, not sure where she was going with this. "Well . . . that's why."  
  
"What's why?"  
  
"You move too fast, then there's nothing left to do, so you move on."  
  
Spot pulled himself up indignantly. "That has nothing to do-"  
  
"Oh yes it does," she cut him off, "You're used to girls who'll give it all up on the first date. Well I've got news for you, Spot. I'm not one of those girls. So it that's all you're after, you can get it somewhere else." She took off running down the bridge, leaving Spot too stunned to follow. He slid down the rail of the bridge and sat on the pavement, thinking hard. Was it true? Was he just looking for a good time? He didn't know the answer, so he kept thinking. He sat there on the Bridge just thinking until it got dark. He vaguely noticed the absence of the sun, and got up. He walked slowly back to the lodging house, still thinking. When he arrived, the newsies gathered in the lobby exclaimed over how late he was and asked where he'd been. Spot looked right through them as if they weren't there, and continued up to his room, where he lay on his bed. Not sleeping, just thinking. All night long.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
AN: This was a good one, you know it was. So why don't you just push that button down there and review! Bribes are always given, and I psychically know what you want, don't forget ;-) So review, or I won't be inspired to write the next chapter . . . which is gonna be even better than this one! 


	14. All that thinking paid off

FictionHobbit: Well, I'm not gonna say exactly where I live on a story anyone can read, but it's kinda near you! What a coincidence :-) How can you say she seems cold? She's just not gonna be pushed around by a bunch of kids, that's all. She had to establish her authority. But she's really nice, I promise.  
  
Ally: Wow! I have an international fan! I feel so loved. Is London really cool? That's about third on my list of places I would love to live (after Paris and of course New York)  
  
Liz: *hands Liz a pizza, a taco, and a king size Hershey Bar. You're so nice!  
  
Yanchi and Marron: You obviously missed the point of Duchess' little speech. He might play around with fast girls, but he won't stay with em. Duchess wants something more than that.  
  
killersabinx: You do not know how much it means to me to get a review praising Duchess' morals. Thanks!  
  
Lucky Windsor: *takes a bow* yes, I shot down Spot Conlon ;-) and I think I probably mentioned in my reviews how thrilled I am to be in your story, thanks!  
  
Sami: anytime  
  
Volcanous: be patient! you'll get your chocolate!  
  
Sab: guess you will, so read on  
  
All reviewers: thanks so much! *tosses chocolate out into the crowd*  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
When Spot came downstairs the next morning, his head full to bursting with all the thoughts he had stuffed into it the night before, he saw Duchess talking with a few of the others who were up early. He headed in their direction, determined to talk to her and make amends.  
  
Duchess saw him coming and quickly turned to Books.  
  
"Books, wanna sell with me today?" she asked, trying to sound casual.  
  
Books looked curiously at Duchess then saw her eyes flick in Spot's direction.  
  
"Sure, Duchess," she responded after a moment.  
  
"Great! Come on, let's go. The papes won't sell themselves!" Duchess practically dragged Books out of the lodging house in her rush to get away from Spot.  
  
Spot was left staring after them in consternation. That was the last he saw of her until lunch.  
  
In Manny's, Duchess did her best to continue avoiding Spot, but he pulled a leader on her. She had inhaled a sandwich and was about to scurry out the door when he called her name.  
  
"Duchess!" She froze, then turned around slowly.  
  
"Yes, Spot?" she asked wincing slightly at his irritated tone.  
  
"Outside. Now."  
  
Duchess considered refusing. She could, after all, land him flat on his back in under a second. But she knew how important having respect was to a leader's position, and as angry as she was with him, she didn't want to be the cause of trouble in Brooklyn. So she followed him out and around to corner, where the newsies inside couldn't see them.  
  
Spot sighed and paced a bit, unsure of how to start. After a moment, Duchess said, "Well spit it out already! I haven't got all day."  
  
"Ok. Well the thing is, I've been thinking about what you said yesterday, after . . ."  
  
"Yeah. Go on."  
  
"Well. You were right. That is why I go through girls so quick. But it's not like that with you, Duch. You're different. I've never felt this way about any other girl." He paused a moment, then looked Duchess straight in the eye. "Duch, I think I love you."  
  
Duchess cocked her head, smirking a bit, but inwardly jumping for joy.  
  
"You think?"  
  
Spot sighed in exasperation.  
  
"Okay, I know. I love you Anastasia Laine."  
  
She managed to hold her smirk for a moment more before she broke into a beaming smile. "That's a good thing. Cause I love you too, Liam Conlon." His grin rivaled hers for brightness, right until she kissed it off his lips. And this time, nothing went wrong.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
AN: The end? I don't think so! There's still more surprises left in this story. So stay tuned :-) And you know you want to review. If you don't, I will hold the rest of the story hostage, and you will be left with this happy, but entirely unsatisfactory ending. So push the button! 


	15. crash and burn

Rae: haha, nice try, lol  
  
Marron: Go ahead, I'd like to read it :-)  
  
meggiebaby81: aww, thanks! *blushes*  
  
Iris: Don't worry it's not over yet, as you will see in this chapter ;-)  
  
Arrow: Wow! thanks for the nice long review. I'm glad you like Duchess' morals too. And yeah, it would take a lot of will power to refuse Spot Conlon, but she's tough, lol.  
  
AN: Well, this is a first for me. Posting chapters two days in a row, but despite appearances I left the last chapter somewhat in the middle of things. So here's more :-)  
  
^*^*^*^*^  
  
Spot and Duchess snuck away from Manny's without the others realizing they were gone. They spent the entire afternoon together, selling a bit, but mostly just having fun, and being in love. That evening they went over to Manhattan and caught the show at Medda's. Jack and a few of the other Manhattan newsies were there, but Spot and Duchess sat in the back, under the balcony to avoid detection. After the show, they wandered slowly home. They stopped for a long time on the Brooklyn Bridge, talking a lot, and kissing a little. Among the things they talked about, was the fact that Spot's reputation for being fast wasn't entirely earned. "Yeah, it's true I had a lot of girls, but I ain't never done more than a little foolin' around," he said, turning a bit red. "That's great, Spot," Duchess responded beaming. When they finally got back to the lodging house, it was long after midnight, and everyone else was asleep. They managed to sneak in without waking anyone else up. Duchess fell immediately into a contented sleep, but Spot just kept thinking about how happy he was. He finally got up and crept out of his room, down the hall to the girl's bunkroom. He cracked the door open noiselessly and gazed at Duchess. Her blonde hair spread out on her pillow, her face relaxed and bearing no trace of her usual smirk. He started humming a tune softly, then, still softly, so as not to wake the girls, he began to sing the words.  
  
I could stay awake just to hear you breathing  
  
Watch you smile while you are sleeping  
  
While you're far away dreaming  
  
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender  
  
I could stay lost in this moment forever  
  
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure  
  
Don't want to close my eyes  
  
I don't want to fall asleep  
  
Cause I'd miss you baby  
  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
  
Cause even when I dream of you  
  
The sweetest dream will never do  
  
I'd still miss you baby  
  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
  
Lying close to you feeling your heart beating  
  
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming  
  
Wondering if it's me you're seeing  
  
Then I kiss your eyes  
  
And thank God we're together  
  
I just want to stay with you in this moment forever  
  
Forever and ever  
  
Don't want to close my eyes  
  
I don't want to fall asleep  
  
Cause I'd miss you baby  
  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
  
Cause even when I dream of you  
  
The sweetest dream will never do  
  
I'd still miss you baby  
  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
  
I don't want to miss one smile  
  
I don't want to miss one kiss  
  
I just want to be with you  
  
Right here with you, just like this  
  
I just want to hold you close  
  
Feel your heart so close to mine  
  
And just stay here in this moment  
  
For all the rest of time  
  
Don't want to close my eyes  
  
I don't want to fall asleep  
  
Cause I'd miss you baby  
  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
  
Cause even when I dream of you  
  
The sweetest dream will never do  
  
I'd still miss you baby  
  
And I don't want to miss a thing  
  
Don't want to close my eyes  
  
I don't want to fall asleep  
  
I don't want to miss a thing  
  
Duchess slept blissfully on as Spot closed the door softly and crept back to his room, but someone else was awake. Books was grinning widely. At last, her brother had fallen in love! It was so wonderful!  
  
The next day, Spot and Duchess both slept in. Not even Karen's strongest warnings could drag them out of bed. She finally gave up and attended to hurrying the rest of her charges out the door.  
  
Spot and Duchess finally woke up about an hour later. They got ready at a leisurely pace and headed out to the DO. They were able to get two hundred papes, even late, and they headed off to sell.  
  
At lunch time, they headed into Manny's. Spot just happened to have his arm around Duchess' waist as they entered. Needless to say, all the newsies sat up and took notice. Everyone started talking at once, but Chip was the loudest. "So, is Duchess your girl now, Spot?" he yelled.  
  
Spot grinned. "Yeah, yeah she is." Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "And none of you guys better try anything with her, got it?" The guys were quick to assure Spot that they had no designs on his girl. A few of them liked her a bit, but they figured they could soothe her hurt feelings next week when Spot dumped her.  
  
Things were settling down when a voice from the back corner called, "So, are you in love with her, Spot?" It was Emma, the perpetual matchmaker.  
  
Duchess looked at him expectantly, but Spot had frozen, his eyes wide. For a few moments he didn't say anything. When he spoke, Duchess wished he hadn't. "Hey! Spot Conlon ain't in love with nobody!"  
  
Her eyes widened in shock, which quickly gave way to hurt and anger. She whirled and ran. Just as she reached the door he called out to her, "Duchess!"  
  
She spun back around, and Spot saw tears in her eyes. He knew then that he'd really done it. She hadn't even cried when she told him about her brother.  
  
"It was just a lie wasn't it?! Just a lie to get me to be your girl. Cause Spot Conlon gets what he wants. Isn't that it? Well, I've got news for you Conlon. It's over. And don't EVER come near me again!" With that, she ran out the door and down the street, quickly disappearing around a corner.  
  
By the time Spot came out of his shocked daze and thought to give chase, she was long gone. He looked around the restaurant. Most of the newsies avoided eye contact. Not Books. His sister was glaring at him menacingly. "You blew it, Spot. How could you do that to Duchess?" She shook her head disgustedly and stalked out. The other newsies left in small groups as quickly as possible, leaving Spot alone. He slid into a chair and buried his head in his hands. A moment later her looked up as Manny came and stood over him, asking if anything was wrong, could he get him a sasparilla. Spot smirked half-heartedly. "I think I need something a little stronger than sasparilla, Manny."  
  
Manny nodded his understanding and poured the fifteen year old a whiskey.  
  
^*^*^*^*^  
  
AN: See, I told you it wasn't over! Now don't hate me. I promise it gets better. And Marron and Yanchi, don't get your hopes up, lol. *holds up Race's pocket watch and starts swinging it back and forth* You are getting sleepy . . . . very sleepy . . . now when you wake up you will push the button and write a nice long review . . . *snaps fingers* wake up! 


	16. a hiding place

Stripes: But if you duct tape his mouth shut, how will we see that adorable smirk?!  
  
Jazz: Read and find out ;-)  
  
Iris: Well, I've kinda got the rest of this story (which is not much) very planned out. But you could join the gang if you want. There's lots of stories coming in the future. A lot of the guys are spoken for, so I can't promise you a boyfriend, but email me at spocklogiclassie@aol.com give me the usual, looks, personality, background, Manhattan or Brookly (or other) profession (you don't have to be a newsie . . . we need more Medda's girls.) and like top three guys, and I'll see what I can do :-) and this goes for anyone who'd like to be in upcoming stories, even though I already have quite an extensive group of invented people, I'll try.  
  
dreamcoat: LOL  
  
Yanchi: no Jack for you! not unless you write your own story. Remember Lyric?  
  
Loud Mouth: Yeah, that is weird!  
  
irishrose: Have I really used y'all gratuitously??? I guess I don't notice. I'm from Virginia, we say it all the time here too :-)  
  
All reviewers: Thanks and various bribes!  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
Duchess ran through the streets of Brooklyn, tears streaming down her face, not paying any attention to where she was going. Thankfully she ended up at the Brooklyn Bridge. She looked up at the huge brick supports for a moment, then headed out onto it. She stopped about a quarter of the way out, where she and Spot had screamed over the edge. She was just remembering the ill-fated kiss that had followed when she heard a peal of thunder and it started pouring rain. She looked back and forth at the Brooklyn and Manhattan ends of the bridge trying to decide which way to go. She decided she couldn't go back to Brooklyn and headed off quickly toward Manhattan.  
  
She was just turning onto Duane Street when she remembered something critical. The birds. Even if Jack didn't tell Spot where she was, his birds would. She couldn't got to the lodging house. She leaned against the side of a building, feeling completely hopeless. She couldn't go back to Brooklyn, a place she had come to think of as a second home. It was pouring down rain, and she had nowhere to go. Then it hit her. Medda's. She felt some slight renewed hope and headed off in a new direction, toward Irving Hall.  
  
A few minutes later she was pounding on the backstage door. After a moment, the door opened to reveal Blush. When she saw Duchess, her eyes widened in shock. The blonde girl was soaked to the skin, and was sobbing practically hysterically. "Duchess! What happened?" she asked, pulling her inside and shutting the door. Duchess tried to speak, but was crying too hard. She quickly collapsed into a dripping heap on the floor.  
  
"Aunt Medda!" Blush shouted, somewhat panicked, "Come quick!"  
  
The red haired woman came running. When she saw Duchess she went into mother mode and started tossing orders about. "Blush, go get some warm blankets. Keys, some dry clothes. Pirouette, go make a pot of tea." The three girls scurried off to do as they were bidden and Medda knelt down next to Duchess. "Honey, what happened?"  
  
Duchess took several shuddering breaths, and finally managed to stop sobbing. She haltingly told Medda about the last three days. As she was talking, Blush, Keys, and Pirouette returned and some of the other girls gathered around, listening. When she got to the part where Spot had said he didn't love her, Blush burst out, "Why that dirty, rotten, low-down-"  
  
Medda shushed her quickly. "That's enough, Blush." she turned back to Duchess. "So, you ran out and were wandering the streets all afternoon until you got here."  
  
Duchess nodded. She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Medda, I know this is a bit presumptuous, but could I stay here for a while? I can't think of anywhere else I could go that Spot won't find me."  
  
Medda looked confused. "But the newsies come here all the time."  
  
"Yes, but they don't come upstairs, or even backstage very much, so since I'm not performing, I think I could stay out of sight well enough." Medda looked dubious, but finally agreed. "All right, you're welcome here as long as you need a place. With your voice I do wish you'd perform though."  
  
"That would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" Duchess asked, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. Medda grinned back at her.  
  
"Yes I suppose it would."  
  
*****  
  
The next day, Spot, battling a nasty hangover, sent word out to all the birds, both day and permanent, to report immediately if they found Duchess. It quickly became obvious that she had left Brooklyn, and she hadn't gone to the Manhattan lodging house, home of the only other newsies she had met, so Spot was worried sick. He was also convinced that if she got hurt it would be his fault. Day after day passed with no word, and Spot grew more and more panicked. He didn't sleep, barely ate, just waited for word, and started searching on his own, street by street, all over New York. Despite all his efforts, a week went by with no sign of her. She seemed to have disappeared off the face of the planet.  
  
*****  
  
Duchess had been at Medda's for a week. She was still upset, but no longer distraught. She was upstairs inexpertly picking out a tune on the old piano in the hall when she heard Blush talking to someone downstairs. "So, are you gonna sing, Night?"  
  
Night? Duchess thought. She didn't recognize the name. She decided to go downstairs and see who it was.  
  
"Yeah, I was thinking that." replied an unfamiliar voice. Duchess walked down the stairs to see a girl of about twelve talking to Blush. She had long, straight black hair, amber colored eyes, and tanned skin. Blush turned around when she heard footsteps on the stairs. "Oh, Duchess!" she said, smiling, "Have you met Nightingale?" Both girls froze suddenly, staring at each other. Duchess heard Books' voice echoing in her head, "There's live in birds too. Even in Manhattan." Oh no! Nightingale's one of Spot's birds for sure! she thought frantically. So much for staying hidden. Nightingale looked the blonde girl up and down. Yep, she matched Spot's description. So this is where she's been hiding! she thought triumphantly. Spot'll be happy to hear this.  
  
"Excuse me," Duchess said and retreated up the stairs abruptly.  
  
Nightingale gazed after her. "I need to do something. I'll perform later. See ya." And she left as well. When she got outside she walked a couple blocks until she saw a brunette girl about a year younger than her. She whistled shrilly. The girl looked up and trotted over. "Heya, Night, what's up?"  
  
"A lot Starling. Here, take this note to Spot, and quick!" she handed Starling the crumpled piece of paper on which she had quickly scribbled a note with the stub of a pencil. It read:  
  
Spot,  
  
Your girl's at Medda's.  
  
Night  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
AN: So, didja like it? Didja, didja, huh? Okay, I'll stop acting hyper and teeny bopperish. Just tell me what you think by pusing the little review button :-) Bribes are a given as always . . . 


	17. The very last chapter!

Jazz: Okay, maybe this wasn't exactly soon, but I was having trouble letting go of my baby ;-)  
  
Marron: Just stay back! back I say! LOL  
  
Yanchi: Not in my stories he isn't ;-)  
  
Iris: I know I'm evil, it's fun, but now you get conclusion and ending and everything!  
  
Rae: ROFL, yep they are ;-)  
  
meggiebaby81: yep it works for him  
  
Loud Mouth: LOL, glad you sensed that  
  
Lucky Windsor: It's her job to tell Spot stuff, don't be too hard on her!  
  
FictionHobbit: something like that, read to find out :-)  
  
Jo: Well, it took me awhile but I have gone forth and uploaded, lol  
  
(inappropriate name person): umm . . . here ya go . . .  
  
Moo Bug: awww . . . sorry to hear that  
  
Arrow: Long enough! and here you get to read my take on the ending :-D  
  
Sugar: Some of your questions will be answered now. The one about Blackjack (the guy that killed her brother) will not be answered for *thinks hard* five stories. But you will eventually get your answer!  
  
Hades: special SO just for you, lol, are your evil minions behaving? I hope not!  
  
AN: OMG! I can't believe it's over! But here it is, my very very LAST CHAPTER! *passes out in shock* I've never finished a story in my life, so count yourselves priveledged :-D  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
The very same afternoon that Spot received Nightingale's note, he put on his good blue shirt and headed for Manhattan. By the time he reached Medda's it was already dark. He nervously smoothed the papers in his hand and was about to knock on the backstage door when a girl stepped out onto the fire escape. Spot looked up, but it was too dark to make out who it was. Then the girl started singing softly and he knew immediately it was Duchess. He leaned into the shadows of the building and listened.  
  
*****  
  
Duchess couldn't take the stuffy air inside the theater anymore, so she stepped out onto the fire escape. She was still heartbroken, and needed some way to express her feelings. She'd never been much on keeping a diary. Then she remembered a song she'd heard once. She started softly singing the words, which she truly understood at that moment.  
  
If you could read my mind love,  
  
what a tale my thoughts could tell.  
  
Just like an old time story  
  
about a ghost from a wishing well.  
  
In a castle dark or a fortress strong  
  
with chains upon my feet.  
  
You know that ghost is me  
  
and I will never be set free  
  
as long as I'm a ghost that you can see.  
  
If I could read your mind love,  
  
what a tale your thoughts could tell.  
  
Just like a paperback novel,  
  
the kind the drugstore sells.  
  
When you reach the part where the heartaches come  
  
the hero would be me.  
  
But heroes often fail.  
  
And you won't read that book again  
  
because the endings just to hard to take.  
  
I walk away like a Broadway queen  
  
who gets burned in a three way script.  
  
Enter number two, a Broadway star  
  
to play the part of bringing all the good things out in me,  
  
but for now love lets be real.  
  
I never thought I could act this way  
  
and I've got to say that I just don't get it.  
  
I don't know where we went wrong  
  
but the feelings gone and I'm trying to get it back.  
  
If you could read my mind love,  
  
what a tale my thoughts could tell.  
  
Just like an old time story about a ghost from a wishing well.  
  
In a castle dark or a fortress strong  
  
with chains upon my feet  
  
but stories always end.  
  
And if you read between the lines  
  
you'll know that I'm just trying to understand  
  
the feelings that you lack.  
  
I never thought I could feel this way  
  
and I've got to say that I just don't get it.  
  
I don't know where we went wrong  
  
but the feelings gone  
  
and I'm trying to get it back.  
  
*****  
  
As Duchess slipped back inside, a single tear ran down Spot's cheek. He took several deep breaths and managed to compose himself. Then he knocked on the door. It was opened by Blush, who immediately glared at him. "Took you long enough," she snapped sarcastically. Spot looked at her in confusion.  
  
"Do I know you?" he asked.  
  
"Thankfully no," she responded icily.  
  
"Well, I'm here to see Duchess," Spot said, not really knowing how to deal with this girl who apparently hated him even though they'd never met.  
  
"Duchess? I don't know any Duchess. I'm sorry, you must be mistaken," Blush responded innocently.  
  
"Yeah, right. Nice try. Just let me in already whatever your name is."  
  
"Blush sighed and stepped back from the door to let him in. Then she held out a well manicured hand. "Skye Larkson, my friends call me Blush."  
  
"Nice to meet you Blu-"  
  
Blush withdrew her hand quickly. "I did *not* say you were my friend."  
  
"Right . . . Well *Skye* Like I said before, I'm here to see Duchess."  
  
"And as I told you, I don't know who you are referring to. Perhaps you are at the wrong-"  
  
She was cut off suddenly when Medda came down the stairs. Not seeing Spot at first she said, "Blush, Duchess wants-"  
  
"Aunt Medda!" Blush slapped her forehead in exasperation. Medda reached the bottom of the stairs and saw Spot. "Sorry dear," she said, looking chagrined.  
  
Spot's trademark smirk lit his face as Medda hurried off in the direction of the stage. "Could you please tell Duchess I want to see her?"  
  
"Why certainly," Blush responded in mock politeness. Then she opened her mouth and yelled, "Duchess! There's a short guy with an attitude problem here to see you!"  
  
A familiar voice responded loudly. "Well tell HIM I don't want to see him!"  
  
"Well tell HER I came to apologize!"  
  
"Well tell HIM I'm NOT interested!"  
  
Blush was looking in amusement at Spot. He looked pleadingly at her. "Come on! Help me out here!" He said softly. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"All right." She turned and yelled up the stairs, "Don't worry, I'll get rid of him for you Duchess!"  
  
"Thanks!"  
  
She turned back to Spot and whispered, "First door on the left."  
  
"I owe you . . . Blush."  
  
Spot climbed the stairs and slowly approached the open door of Duchess' room. She was sitting at the vanity with her back to him. Then she stood and whirled around. "I thought you were leaving!" she said angrily.  
  
For a moment Spot was too stunned to speak. She looked beautiful. Her outfit was nothing like anything he'd ever seen her wear before. The top was white lace, with a silk lining under the bodice and long flared sleeves. Her skirt was red satin and fell in full folds to the floor. The outfit was accented by a wide black belt and the red ribbon holding half her hair back. Spot swallowed a couple times, and finally found his voice. "Please, Duchess. Just come downstairs and hear me out."  
  
"Spot, if you have something to say to me, just say it and be on your way."  
  
"But you have to come downstairs first."  
  
"Why?" Duchess asked, tossing her head in annoyance.  
  
"Just come," Spot said, a pleading look entering his eyes.  
  
Duchess rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right, but this had better be good."  
  
Spot sighed in relief and led her down the stairs. When they arrived, Duchess raised her eyebrows. "Well?"  
  
"I didn't mean what I said at Manny's. It's just . . ." He trailed off, trying to find the right words. "I've got this reputation I've got to protect."  
  
Duchess stared at him incredulously for a moment, her jaw hanging open. Then she snapped her mouth shut angrily. "Well," she said sharply, "I hope you and your reputation will be very happy together!" Then she turned and started back up the stairs.  
  
"Duchess wait!"  
  
She turned around, her jaw clenched angrily, arms folded over her chest.  
  
"Please . . . I don't know how to say it in words, but listen please?" Spot turned and sat down at the piano, placing the sheets of paper he had been fiddling with, which were filled with musical notes, on the stand. He took a deep breath, placed his fingers on the keys, and began playing. Soon he added his deep, smooth voice to the music.  
  
Baby, please try to forgive me,  
  
Stay here, don't put out the glow.  
  
Hold me now,  
  
Don't bother,  
  
If every second it makes me weaker,  
  
You can save me from the man that I become,  
  
oh yeah,  
  
Looking back on the things I've done,  
  
I was trying to be someone,  
  
Who played my part,  
  
Kept you in the dark,  
  
Now let me show you the shape of my heart.  
  
Sadness is beautiful,  
  
Loneliness is tragical  
  
So heal me,  
  
I can't win this war,  
  
Touch me now,  
  
Don't bother,  
  
If every second it makes me weaker,  
  
You can save me from the man I've become  
  
Looking back on the things I've done,  
  
I was trying to be someone,  
  
Who played my part,  
  
Kept you in the dark,  
  
Now let me show you the shape of my heart.  
  
I'm here with my confession,  
  
Got nothing to hide no more,  
  
I don't know where to start,  
  
But to show you the shape of my heart.  
  
I'm looking back on things I've done,  
  
I never want to play the same ol' part,  
  
Or keep you in the dark,  
  
Now let me show you the shape of my heart.  
  
Looking back on the things I've done,  
  
I was trying to be someone,  
  
Who played my part,  
  
Kept you in the dark,  
  
Now let me show you the shape of my heart.  
  
Show you the shape of my heart....  
  
When he finished, tears were streaming down Duchess' cheeks. Spot turned and approached her cautiously. "I wrote it for you, and I meant every word." He took her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. "Forgive me?"  
  
She gave him a grave look. "When you admit in front of all your newsies that you love me."  
  
*****  
  
About an hour later, Spot was facing his newsies, who had gathered in Manny's for a "special announcement." They were all glad to see that Duchess had returned and figured the announcement had something to do with that. Spot cleared his throat and began speaking. "Last week, I said I didn't love anybody, but that isn't true. I want you all to know that I am madly, crazy, head over heels in love with Duchess." The room exploded in wild cheers as Duchess jumped up and ran into Spot's open arms.  
  
"And I love you," she said, beaming.  
  
After a few moments, Spot quieted the cheering with a loud, "HEY!" The newsies quieted down and he looked over at Duchess as he slipped a black cord over his head. Dangling from the cord was a silver key. He held it up so everyone could see what it was. Then faced Duchess. "This is the key to Brooklyn. It's been passed down from leader to leader for years. It's a symbol of power and respect. But now I want you to wear it, because for you, it's the key to my heart."  
  
Duchess bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to keep from crying in front of all the newsies. The tears of joy streamed down her cheeks as she accepted the key and slipped it over her head. "I'll wear it proudly," she said in an appropriately solemn tone. Then she broke out in a grin. "Unless you need it to impress some rival newsies or something!" Spot laughed, and suddenly, as if by some cue, everyone started partying. As newsies started milling about, Spot pulled Duchess close to him, their lips met, and the rest of the world disappeared for a time.  
  
THE END  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
AN: *sobs* It's finished! My very first fic is finished! I can't believe it! Anyway, yes this is the last chapter, but I'm gonna post something else after this, which you will (I hope!) find very interesting. But only if you review :P What is this thing? Well, it's three things actually. I'm gonna do final SO's, I know you all want those ;-) I'm gonna tell you where Duchess was during the strike, admit it, you wanna know! I have it all worked out, it's cool, and I'm gonna have a plug for my next fic! It's gonna be cowritten with Lyric, and it's awesome. More on that next time :- ) So review, or you won't get all that fun stuff! Go on, just push the button! PLEASE . . . 


	18. epilogue thingie!

AN: Right, so here is the promised addition thingie :-) I've only gotten like 7 reviews *pouts* but I'm posting anyway! So, let's start with final shout outs shall we?  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers, you've been wonderful, and I'm going to list you here:  
  
Silvershapphire  
  
Lyric (My bestest bud! *huggles*)  
  
Fastdancer  
  
Pop  
  
Half-Pint  
  
Killersabinx  
  
Jo  
  
Dreamcoat  
  
Hobbes  
  
Braces  
  
Pyro  
  
Katie  
  
Rae Kelly (huggles for Rae!)  
  
Haley  
  
Singah (Chel)  
  
Esmen  
  
Taurus Princess  
  
Karmastar  
  
popmonkeysangle  
  
Jacki (special huggles for you long reviews!)  
  
Corey  
  
Saibie  
  
Sab  
  
Gypsy  
  
Lysaka  
  
Little Washu  
  
Draco's Secret Lover  
  
Liz  
  
Iris  
  
Miss Ice  
  
Yanchi (haha, I got Spot! j/k)  
  
Tiger  
  
Moo Bug  
  
L'etoile  
  
Marron  
  
Loud Mouth  
  
Stripes  
  
Kim  
  
Arrow (special huggles for my other long reviewer!)  
  
Orli Chica  
  
meggiebaby81 (or should I call you Queen?)  
  
Ally  
  
Lucky Windsor  
  
Sami  
  
Jazz  
  
Irish Rose  
  
Sugar  
  
  
  
Okay, wasn't that nice? Of course it was! And if I missed you . . . email me and I'll grovel at your feet for forgiveness, lol. Now moving on to my lovely little section about where Duchess was in the strike. This is gonna be mostly just explanation with one little scene that I like :-)  
  
So, right, as we first enter Brooklyn, Spot hops off his "throne" and is wearing the key, right? Well, recall from the last chapter, Duchess said she'd lend it to him if he needed to impress people, and that was what he needed to do in that scene. And where was Duchess in that scene? Not to mention the other girls? Well, they were watching from the safety of the LH while Spot did the negotiating. But, after that scene ends, I bet you didn't know that Jack, Davey, and Boots didn't go straights back to Manhattan, did you?  
  
****  
  
"That ain't good enough Jacky-Boy. You gotta show me."  
  
The three Manhattan Newsies turned to leave, but Spot extended his cane to block their way. "Hey, don't be in such a hurry! The Mouth hasn't met my girl yet." He called over his shoulder, "Hey girls! we've got visitors!"  
  
Five tough looking girls sauntered out from behind the crates.  
  
"So, Mouth," Spot said, "Which one do you think is my girl?"  
  
David surveyed the girls carefully. The short, blonde one in front was wearing a smirk identical to Spot's. "Her," he said, pointing to the girl. Spot's smirk widened into a real grin.  
  
"You're quick, Davey-Boy, real quick. I'd like you to meet my girl, Duchess. Duchess this is the Walking Mouth." Duchess sauntered over to stand beside Spot. She spit in her palm and held it out to David. "Pleased to meet you Mouth." David grimaced, but took her hand.  
  
"The name's David, David Jacobs," he said, smiling. Duchess smirked at him good naturedly. Then she turned to look at Spot. "So, Spot, are you done impressing people yet?" Spot looked over at David.  
  
"I dunno. Are ya impressed Mouth?" David nodded solemnly, biting his lips to keep from smiling. "Okay, I guess I'm done then," Spot said, and slipped the key over his head and handed it to Duchess. She quickly slipped it around her neck. Then she leaned up and kissed Spot. "Thanks," she said, "I was lost without it." Jack grinned at the display, the said, "Well, we better get back. Don't worry Spot, we'll show ya."  
  
As Jack, David, and Boots headed down the docks, Duchess bit her lip worriedly. "I think we should go over to Manhattan. I think this 'situation' is about to get messy."  
  
Spot looked at her. "I agree, which is why I'm gonna take some of the boys and you are going to stay right here."  
  
Duchess pouted a bit, not wanting to be left out of the action, but decided to let it be.  
  
*****  
  
Okay, so that explains where Duchess was during the Never Fear Brooklyn is Here part :-) Now moving on to the rally. Well she was there. You know how when Spot's talking he keeps looking over to his left? He's looking at Duchess! Trying to see if she's impressed. And when Jack says "What do you say Spot?" and he looks over there again, he's looking to see what Duchess thinks, and she gives him the go ahead. And then, when Snyder gets there, David goes up to tell Jack, and Spot you will notice, glances around shiftily then disappears into the crowd. He's going to get Duchess out. And last but not least, the very end. When Spot's going back to Brooklyn in Teddy Roosevelt's coach. Duchess was in on the rally of course :-) So, right after the coach leaves the picture, Duchess hops in!  
  
And there you have it, where Duchess was during the strike :-)  
  
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! The unveiling of my next fic! All right, I can't really claim it as all mine. It is going to be co written with my bestest bud Lyric! It's going to be called Trusting Purity, and will be posted under our joint pen name: The Muses. For those of you who were wondering what was wrong with Blush, this is her story! Aren't you excited! I know you are. And just to draw you in, it's a Mush fic, everybody loves Mush, yes? Of course you do! So keep a look out for Trusting Purity, it should be coming your way any day now :-)  
  
Thanks once again to all my lovely readers, and especially reviewers! Hope to continue to hear from y'all as I dig myself deeper into the world of Newsies ff ;-) 


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